


may nothing but death do us part

by words_on_pages



Series: Prison Universe [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blood Play, Bottom Louis, Dark Harry, Fake Dating, Hurt/Comfort, Louis swears a lot, M/M, Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, cell mates, harry is slightly insane, in the most unconventional sense, louis is a criminal, mentions/implications of pedophilia, neither H or L die in this, non-con and consensual sex, prison fic, the blood play does not involve sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_on_pages/pseuds/words_on_pages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It was a double edged sword. His entire existence since the moment he’d come here had included being the object of Harry’s attention. In the beginning he’d learned to find a begrudging comfort in it because it kept the other inmates in line and later it had come to feel- expected. It was automatic. Had become Louis’ default.</em>
</p><p> <em>So to have that suddenly gone threw him off balance.</em></p><p>You'll definitely want to start with  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4004515">when the levee breaks</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	may nothing but death do us part

**Author's Note:**

> Okay wow. I can't believe I'm finally at this point. Thank you so much to those of you who read my oneshot initially and decided to be vocal about wanting more. Without you guys none of this would even exist. I don't know if I'm just a dark soul or something but I really do enjoy darker style of fic and I have such a soft spot for these characters. And thank you so much for hanging in there! I know it's been almost three months since the second part but I honestly had no idea the story in my head would actually be this long when it was written!
> 
> A quick thank you to [deaflock](http://deaflock.tumblr.com/) for her beta around the halfway point :) Anything wrong with it at this point is all on me!
> 
> I almost forgot, if you are interested I made a little [lame art thing](http://words-on-pages.tumblr.com/post/127477494260/prison-universe-39000-words-when-louis-finds) to go with the fic!

 

Thirteen years.

Louis sucked in his cheeks and bit down in frustration at the thought. He stared through the yard fence, fingers tangled in the chain link. There was a wide expanse of flat land surrounding the prison, seemed to go on and on; never-ending. He knew realistically it wasn’t never-ending. At some point normal civilization started. Someone out there right now was heading to work at a gas station, somewhere else a woman was yelling at her nanny for allowing her child to spill grape juice on the carpet, even further away a newlywed couple was sipping piña coladas on some fucking fancy beach resort.

Louis twisted his mouth bitterly. He was stuck in here for thirteen fucking years. The metal between his fingers felt so final and the noise of other inmates behind him, grunts from the weightlifting equipment, blurred chatter, shouts from the guards, it all pressed in on him. He squeezed his hands in the chain link to the point of pain, hoping to prevent the sense of claustrophobia from drowning him. The feeling of helplessness always stayed with him, but he couldn’t handle anything else on top of that.

The clang of metal hitting metal drew his attention back to where Harry was lifting a weighted bar, sweat making his skin shine. He had pulled off the orange top at some point and was now wearing only a white shirt he had on underneath. Louis bit down on his bottom lip, eyes squinting in disapproval at the looks the others were giving him. Louis tried to avoid interaction with other inmates at all costs. And attention- the kind that Harry was getting right now- did not help that endeavor in the least. A massively built inmate walked toward Harry and his disapproval grew. They were quite well known to keep out of people’s shit. They didn’t socialize, kept to themselves. Obviously that was never going to be a problem for Harry, it’s what he’d been doing for two years before Louis had landed himself here, but now that Harry followed him like he was his shadow it was up to him to keep them set apart as well.

It’s not like Louis wasn’t still hassled. Jesus, he was. Annoyingly so. But he’d gotten rather adept at his fuck off demeanor.

His senses went on alert when the guy stepped over the bench that Harry was laying on, leg on either side of his knees. He recognized that the inmate was newer, he’d seen him eyeing up Harry before but had never been this direct. Louis started to make his way over, catching some of what was being said to him.

“-not sure how the fuck you got yourself a bitch like Tomlinson. You’re not just a fucking freak but a pretty one at that. Been thinking I might want a piece of you. Might have to free Tomlinson up to someone else.”

Louis strode leisurely up to the bench, his back to the asshole who was quite probably a good two feet taller than him. But he didn’t give a fuck, he wasn’t going to give this guy the satisfaction of acknowledging him. He pressed his thigh into Harry’s hip.

“Do me a favor?”

Harry lifted the bar one final time and rested it back in its place. He blinked up at Louis, eyes fastening on him with a fierceness that he had come to expect. The thought slammed into his chest that he wouldn’t know what to do if Harry didn’t look at him like that. It had turned into a truth universally known, at least in his world; if Harry was awake and breathing, his eyes were almost always glued to Louis.

Something curled in his stomach. He couldn’t quite figure out if it was nausea or not.

“Need your help with some sit-ups over here.” He jerked a thumb behind him. A rush of gratification filled him when Harry slid up the bench, through that prick’s legs, and stood up, not once looking away from Louis.

“Fucking freak.”

Spit landed in Harry’s hair.

Louis rubbed a hand restlessly over his mouth. Goddamn it, he wanted to say something. But it wasn’t worth the attention. Blending in, making yourself as unnoticeable as possible was everything in here. The taste of blood filled his mouth and he realized how hard he was biting his cheeks in an effort not to go off on that muscley fuck.

He grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him toward the fence line.

 

***

 

Dr. Borland didn’t so much as quit as postpone the next meeting for a week and a half.

Louis tried to contemplate what it took to be in that profession; to work in a place like this. The doc had only worked here for two and a half weeks so it’s not like he had an impressive track record or anything, but considering his first meeting had almost resulted in him being choked to death? Well, Louis was willing to throw him a bit of grudging respect in the fact that he’d woken up the next day and  _not_ given the Warden a big fuck you before he walked out.

Christ. If Louis had his job and had to voluntarily come here every day and talk to these crazy fucks he’d fucking shoot himself.

He glanced over to Harry as they walked to the meeting room, unnerved to meet his eyes this time. His brown hair was swooped back to one side of his head, a little stringy due to the number of times Harry had run his hand through it. His skin was porcelain against the dark curve of his eyebrows and thick lashes. The orange top and pants weren’t kind to anyone in here but there was something about what they stood for- that you belonged in here- and for that reason it added to Harry’s aura of mystery. What was he hiding behind those crisp green eyes?

What flavor of psycho were you, Harry Styles?

If Louis was in Dr. Borland’s position he could learn the answer to those questions. Desire burned like wildfire along his veins, wishing like hell he could’ve been in the room when Harry privately spilled his secrets to men like Dr. Samuels. The heat that had flared up burned out just as quickly when a hand from one of the guards stopped him from entering the room after Harry. Louis cocked his head in question and huffed a laugh, confused.

“Excuse me, gonna let me through to my meeting?”

“Sorry I can’t.”

Louis ran his tongue over his teeth, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“Haha.” He poked the guard in the chest. “Funny joke, now let me pass.”

The hand pushed him back more forcefully. He shuffled back three steps, annoyance sparking into mass of heat in his chest. What the fuck was this? He moved forward, intent on walking around this stupid fuck who was clearly trying to rile him for no goddamn reason.

“Listen, joe. I belong in that meeting in there. So don’t tell-“

He cut his words off as the guard pulled his baton out. “You need to back away, inmate!”

“Jesus! alright, alright!” He countered.

Dr. Borland was suddenly in the doorway, censure in his face and Louis inexplicably felt like Borland expected more out of him. He waved toward a cornered off area about fifteen feet from the guards.

“Louis, can I speak to you for a second?”

He fisted his hands tightly and followed him.

“Listen, you can’t come to the meetings anymore. And making a scene like that isn’t going to do you any good.” He tipped his head. “I know you’re smarter than that.”

“Understood.” Louis replied testily. “But  _why_  the fuck am I not allowed in there?”

“I can’t actually disclose that with you because patient/doctor confidentiality prevents me.”

Annoyance boiled up in him into something uglier. That mass in his chest turned jagged, tearing at him as certainties lined themselves up in his mind. 

“Someone told you not to let me in there?” He fired back.

Dr. Borland sighed wearily.

“Who the fuck told you not to let me come?” He threatened. His chest began to lift and sag in shorter and shorter intervals as anger fought its way through him.

“Louis, you know I can’t answe-“

“It was Harry wasn’t it?” He asked with a deadly calm. He’d remember to tell the doc never to try to lie to save his fucking life because the confirmation was obvious in the tight set of his shoulders.

Louis whipped his head to look down the hall. Only a couple chairs were visible through the doorway but sure as shit, there was Harry staring right at him from his seat.  _Of course,_  Harry fucking Styles who was in control of  _everything_ , Louis thought bitterly. Honestly, did Louis have a say in anything? Harry draped his body over him when he wanted, he pet Louis’ hair when he wanted, he _fucked_  Louis whenever he wanted, stared at him all goddamn day- in their cell, at breakfast, in the showers, when they sat on the couch, when they stood in the yard- never giving him a moment of peace. Louis felt his stomach rise up against him at the claustrophobia that was overwhelming him. Is this what a panic attack felt like?

“Louis, calm down and go back to your cell.” Borland told him firmly. “I want an appointment with you tomorrow at 9:00 am. I’ve had something I’ve wanted to discuss with you anyway.”

He nodded his head numbly.

 

***

 

Louis’ mood deteriorated even further as he waited for Harry to come back from the meeting. They usually lasted about an hour. He was actually not even sure if they could last much longer. At 8:30 p.m. every inmate had to be in their assigned cell for count. The meeting was from 7:00-8:00, which was kind of a tight squeeze between night chow and the count.

From what Louis could tell roughly forty-five minutes had passed. Each and every minute that had ticked by, the anger inside him had grown into something black and all-consuming. He grabbed a sheet intending on hanging it up across the bars of the cell, needing desperately to cling to a shred of privacy and peace. The guards allowed the practice of hanging them for short periods of time. They checked in on you more often but Louis thought it was worth it for right now.

The closest guard on his level was standing twelve cells to the right and gave him a look when he saw him putting it up.

“Give me a fucking break, I just need some time to myself.” He spat out tightly.

No sooner had he walked back inside when there was a “knock” on the metal bars. He twisted around and glowered when he saw Crow. The guy gave him the fucking creeps. He was what the guards called an Ag- short for agitator- anyone who tried to start fights between prisoners for enjoyment. He was Carson’s bitch. About Louis’ height, more slender in build but always had a sly fucking look on him.

Not that Louis ever wanted to interact with him, but now was really not the time. Christ. The worst of all times.

“Get the fuck away from my cell.” Louis demanded hotly.

Crow smiled furtively and made tsking noise. “My, aren’t  _you_  touchy.”

“Yeah, I am.” Louis’ eyes went wide in irritation. “So get the fuck out.”

“My goodness. Harry hasn’t held you down and fucked you in over twelve hours and this is how you get?” The snakey bastard’s voice purred.

“What did you just say to me?”

Every single nerve-ending burned with the desire to haul a fist over and slam it into his face. It was on the verge of painful just to hold his muscles tightly still. If he did anything to this piece of shit he would be the one to get punished for it with a night in the hole.

“By the sound of the moans he thrusts out of you, I’d say you love spreading your thighs for that freak.” A look came over Crow’s face. It sickened Louis to realize it was arousal. “I may have to try my hand at him sometime just to see what all the fuss is about.”

Louis ground his teeth together and balled his fists. It took every last ounce of energy not to lunge at him. The words  _love spreading your thighs_  whispered over and over and over in his head. A rolling loop that he thought might actually drive him insane.

Crow quirked an eyebrow. “I mean really.” He whispered conspiratorially. “What is it like to have him bend you over whenever he wishes and to just fuckin’  _love it_?”

“What’s going on here? Crow, get back to your cell.” The guard from before looked in as Crow leisurely strolled past as if he was leaving exactly when he had intended to and not a moment before.

Louis stared at him blankly, each breath making his lungs feel like they were filled to the brim with shards of glass.

The guard eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve got ten more minutes with the sheet and then it’s coming down. Got it?”

He nodded.

As soon as the guard left he rushed to the toilet and threw up everything he’d eaten an hour and a half earlier. He continued to heave afterward because his body just  _couldn’t_  stop. A minute passed of continuous, agonizing jerks. He was finally able to cup some water from the sink in order to wash his mouth out.

Violent emotions assaulted him and wound around every corner of his mind. He couldn’t stop replaying Crow’s taunts.

He didn’t love it. He hated it.  _Hated_  that he was always helpless. Decisions were made without him. Things were done to him. Without his consent for any of it. It wasn’t fucking fair. He was so goddamn sick of it he could scream.

The sound of footsteps behind him had him whirling around. Harry stood just inside the cell, dark eyes staring at him.

A series of successive emotions tumbled through his body one after another and then ended with white hot rage, burning through him fierce enough to make his insides feel like embers.

He flicked his head to the side. “I’m getting fucking sick of you being in control of everything.”

“You say fuck and we fuck. You want to choke me and I’m forced to let you.” His heartbeat thundered through his veins. “How would you like it if you were forced into something without your permission?”

He jabbed his finger at the lower bed. “Sit the fuck down.”

Harry stared at him, eyes dark and simmering as he lowered himself down. He quirked his head as if he was studying him, intrigued. There was a firm set to his jaw that didn’t go unnoticed by Louis. He knew that challenging Harry in this way was not without danger but he was beyond caring.

Molecules of energy felt like they were vibrating his skin. He was just so fucking sick of everything being forced upon him. He wanted to be the enforcer.

“You want to fuck me?” Louis’ grinned bitterly, he walked over to the little bottle he had hidden behind one of the metal posts of the bed. Louis made a show of slathering his hand up with oil- a luxury furtively stolen from the kitchens weeks ago when he had gotten fed up with being fucked without slick. He slipped out of his clothing, kneeing up onto the bed, bracketing Harry’s legs and started working two fingers into himself, motions jerky and erratic from the anger that swam swiftly through his blood. He’d barely been at it a half a minute before he was shoving at Harry’s clothing, maneuvering them viciously down his body.

Harry’s jaw tightened further, objective interest turning to something forbidding. Louis drilled his eyes into him as he grabbed Harry’s soft cock roughly with his slippery hand.

“Not interested?” He mocked, jerking his hand over Harry, whose body was slowly responding. “Well tough shit. When has it ever mattered if I’m interested, huh?”

Fury blazed through him so much that even as Harry finally started to struggle, he gripped his knees as tight to his outer thighs as he could to prevent him from getting up. Harry’s lips pressed into a flat line, snorts of breath coming fiercely from his flared nostrils; chest heaving. Louis’ gripped Harry’s cock and lined him up with his hole, pressing obstinately down. He hissed at the pressure, knowing the few seconds he’d used to slick himself up had been nowhere near what he needed to prepare for him. He pressed unerringly down, swallowing thickly over the burn and pushing as much of his weight down onto Harry to halt his struggles.

Fully seated, he looked up only to find that unearthly shine take over Harry’s eyes and anger bubbled up once again. Louis slapped him across the cheek, surprise flashing for a second in the green depths before Harry zeroed in on him with laser focus. “Don’t you fucking dare go anywhere else, Harry. You’re going to experience every moment of this.”

Louis felt Harry’s hands ball into fists where they rested in either side the bed next to his thighs.

At that he started a rhythm of sliding up and down Harry’s cock, it was difficult for the first few movements because Harry wasn’t fully hard, but after a minute a sour smile swept over Louis’ face as he felt Harry harden impossibly inside him. He wiggled around without regard for him at all, simply wanting to furiously find his own pleasure. After a few experimental swerves he was hitting the right angle and his movements stuttered at the blinding pleasure that arched through him when the head of Harry’s cock nudged the exact place he was looking for inside him.

“Fuck yeah.” He whispered shakily, eyes closing.

He grabbed at Harry’s shoulders to help steady his body so he could keep hitting that spot. Louis’ thighs burned from the up and down motion as he lifted himself up and slid back down. Fissures of pleasure were spiraling though him at the single-minded onslaught of Harry sliding perfectly inside him over and over. Louis nudged himself closer and shoved Harry’s shirts up his chest in order to slip his aching dick over his stomach. A light high pitched moan escaped at the dual pleasure before he could tamp it down, pursing his lips.

His arms rested on Harry’s shoulders for a moment before he wrapped them around his neck, squeezing tightly as he felt the waves of pleasure building. He was going to come very fast, the sensory overload too much to hold on to. Louis’ motions became tighter and tighter in Harry’s lap until he was barely lifting himself, just rolling on his cock. He pressed down impossibly hard, trying to push his dick as far into his ass as it would go. White dots danced under his eyelids as he felt the overwhelming release hit him. He gasped, mouth open and pressed to Harry’s ear.

It felt like a million little explosions coming out of every pore of his skin, flaring bright and then fading into a low but steady glow. All at once he felt like a ragdoll, arms and head hanging over Harry’s tense shoulders.

His mind was a soft blur, barely able to put coherent words together. “Go ahead.” He rubbed his nose against Harry’s neck, tone cruel. “Fucking do what you want now. Choke me. Whatever the fuck you need to do.”

He sat there, weariness tugging at him, waiting for Harry to make his move so that he could take a nap. Some of the fog cleared away as a minute went by and Harry hadn’t moved at all. A shiver ran through him as hands finally slid over the bare skin of his back, tentatively starting near his hips, but gaining in strength as arms crossed over each other and fingers curved over each of his shoulders. Harry buried his head into his neck and Louis dropped his arms to either side, unsure of what to do with them.

No sound came out of Harry’s mouth, no harsh breaths, no thrusts of his hips. Louis couldn’t even feel that Harry was hard anymore. He’d just buried his face in Louis’ neck with hands gripping tightly to him, arms almost suffocating him with how tightly he was wrapped around him.

Louis raised his right hand and then dropped it, still in shock. He lifted his hand again and hesitantly laid it on Harry’s head. This reaction was the exact fucking opposite of anything he had expected. Harry’s painfully still body gripping onto him was an anomaly. Just one more in a series of idiosyncrasies that made up his cell mate.

As much as he wanted to allow Harry this moment, whatever the fuck it was, the guard would be coming back any second and he needed to a) get his clothes back on and b) pull the sheet down. He curved his fingers firmly but gently around the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him backward. At first he didn’t budge, even clenched on tighter. The absolute silence was getting to him. Was Harry even breathing? Because he honest to god was making so little movement it seemed impossible that breath was coming in and out of his body.

“Hey.” He coaxed, pulling on his neck again. The stiff shoulders finally loosened slightly. Harry’s hands that had previously had a death grip on his shoulders were no longer there. Louis extricated himself from Harry’s lap as smoothly as possible, the cool air now reminding him uncomfortably about the drying come stuck to his stomach. In the few moments it took Louis to pull on his pants and rip the sheet down, Harry had climbed up to the top bunk to lay down facing the wall.

Guilt settled heavily in his stomach as the weight of what he’d just done trickled over him. He’d never forced himself on anyone before. The knowledge that Harry had done so to Louis over and over again did not cancel that fact out. Jesus Christ, what was this place doing to him? What was Harry doing to him?

How had he gotten so enraged over Harry’s control of his life that he had been able to do something like that? The questions sat beneath his skin, little flames that he was unable for the moment to extinguish.

 

***

 

Borland leaned comfortably back in his chair. “Thank you for coming to see me. I know yesterday was a rough day for you.”

Little did he know.

Louis had woken up this morning alone. Which wasn’t unusual except for the fact that he had been alone in his bed  _all_   _night_. Normally, after Harry would come to him and things would escalate the way they did, he liked to card his fingers through Louis’ hair until they both fell asleep. He would get up sometime in the early morning before the guards came around for count. Which is exactly the kind of thing that bespoke of Harry’s awareness and intelligence, because although the guards weren’t dumb and they knew what went down between a lot of inmates, if you were too open about the fact, they would swap cells on you so fast your fucking head would spin. They said that too much closeness between the prisoners caused problems. So knowing that, Harry would get up every morning and climb to the top bunk.

When Louis had woken up today, the knowledge that he’d been in his bed alone all night had felt refreshing. He had felt like he could breathe- in fact he did do that- had taken two or three deep breaths and felt great. His body had shivered, a little cold. Apparently he’d gotten used to the heat of Harry sleeping next to him but a bit of a chill was worth having the peace of mind of being left alone for one night.

Louis blinked a few times having not caught what Dr. Borland had just said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I just said that I’m pleased you came here because I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Louis sniffed and glanced all around the room, wondering what it was that he could have to ask him. His mind drifted back to Harry. He’d acted odd this morning. They had gotten up, not spoken and gone to breakfast together but the entire time Harry hadn’t looked at him once. It was a welcome reprieve, but it had also made his stomach burn with guilt again. More than likely it was a reaction to Louis’ actions the day before.

Eventually he had shrugged it off because Harry could work through his shit however he wanted to. And honestly, Louis really enjoyed the freedom of not being under someone’s close attention 24/7.

His eyes latched onto the doctor’s and he realized he’d been speaking again and he had totally zoned him out.

“Could you repeat what you just said?” Louis interrupted him.

A heavy sigh escaped Borland. “Sure.”

He paused for a brief moment. “You seem distracted. Are you sure you’re listening this time? Because the offer I have for you isn’t something I need to do, it’s for your benefit. And I’m not going to repeat myself again.”

Louis nodded vigorously, interest piqued by the word  _offer._

“I would like to offer you a position to work in my office. I discovered that quite some time ago Dr. Samuels had been allowed an office aide. The man had been an inmate, and it was an exception granted by the Warden as it is not normally a place where prisoners work. But apparently it had been beneficial for both of them. The prisoner’s sentence came to an end and then Dr. Samuels never acquired another to fill the position. I think mainly because he found no one suitable.”

Borland steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and narrowed his eyes in thought. “The thing is- you’re smart. I know you are, Louis. And I also know that you don’t belong in that meeting I lead. You have a light sentence- thirteen years. With the fact that your conviction is simple burglary and that you never used a weapon or involved assault on any person, I’ve convinced the Warden to let you be my office aid. It would be a continuous position and would take you out of the revolving schedule of prisoner duties like laundry, kitchen work, etc. What do you think?”

Louis stared at him, bombarded by all the information. He was offering him a position? And he would never have to work in laundry ever again? That was a very convincing reason, he hated that fucking place. But the more Louis thought about it, it seemed a little too good to be true. No one ever did anything for the sole benefit of someone else in his experience.

“What’s in this for you?” Louis inquired cautiously, hand scratching the scruff along his jawline.

The doctor laughed. “I’m assuming you know how to work a computer? Type?”

Louis nodded.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this but I still have patients outside of my work here at the prison. So I need someone to transcribe my notes and voice recordings into my computer. I rarely have time for it myself and it’s gotten a bit backed up.” He flicked a wrist over at a messy pile about waist high up from the floor.

“Just so you know, you will not have any access to the inmate files I have. You will only be helping me with my other patients.”

 _Inmate files_. Those were the only words that registered to Louis. Of course Borland would have a file on Harry. Probably filled with his entire history. If nothing else had convinced him to say yes that alone would.

“And you won’t have internet access on here.” He tapped his desktop computer. “This position would still comply with the prison-wide rule that only inmates within forty-five days of their release are allowed internet access. No special perks.”

“Understood.” Louis replied distractedly, mind still racing about how he could get access to Harry’s file. He discreetly perused the office to see if he could locate a large filing cabinet or the like.

“So do you have an answer or would you like to think about it?”

Louis started to nod his head before his eyes even landed back on Dr. Borland. “No, I will accept. I’m kinda shitty at typing, can only do like forty words a minute so I don’t know if you are expecting eighty or anything.” He warned.

“No, forty is fine. It’s better than not having an aide at all.” Borland smiled gratefully. “I’ll let the Warden know that you have accepted and get in touch with you as to when you will start. I don’t expect it to be for about a week.”

“Fine by me.”

“There was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about before you go.”

Louis' shoulders stiffened imperceptibly. The casual way that Borland said the words made him alert.

“Yes?” He prompted, wondering if the doctor could see the suspicion in his blue eyes.

“It’s about Harry.”

Louis instantly felt defensive. What could he want to know about him and Harry? He forced his muscles to relax, tried to loosen his posture, fully aware that Borland could probably read every nuance of his demeanor. It irked him that he suddenly felt like he was under a microscope. It also wasn’t lost on him that Borland had lead up to this with the job offer to probably put him at ease, soften him up. As much as he kind of liked Borland, it was a dick move. A classic- and one he probably shouldn’t fault him for but he did anyway.

“What about Harry?” Louis mimicked his casual tone. He didn’t know what the doc was probing at but Louis wasn’t fucking interested in discussing him.

“You two seemed…close...at the first meeting.”

“You mean while I was trying to save your ass? That what you are referring to?” Louis rolled his eyes. “It was a song and dance to get his focus off of killing you. I’d think you’d be a little bit grateful.”

Several minutes passed in silence as Dr. Borland studied him as if trying to sift through his words. Louis refused to fidget, arms dangling carelessly over the sides of the chair, screaming disinterest. Whether Borland actually believed him or just decided to leave it for now he sighed and let up on his scrutiny.

“I am thankful, you have no idea.” Borland curved his mouth wryly and then turned serious. “I just wanted to throw it out there that you are in here for thirteen years and Harry will be here the rest of his life. I may not have been here that long, but I had to read up on the subject when I was getting my degree and the bonds that prisoners make can sometimes actually hurt more than help when the sentences are so different. So I just wanted to caution you to think about the fact that although thirteen years probably seem like a long time to you, it’s actually rather short compared to the majority of the prisoners in here.”

Borland paused in thought as if he was deciding whether or not to continue. “Harry seems to have become attached to you. But your stay here is temporary. His is permanent. He’ll need to know how to continue on in prison by himself when you leave. Just keep that in mind.”

He skidded his chair back, wood legs scraping along the floor and gave Dr. Borland a small tight smile. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll see myself out.”

 

***

 

Several days passed and Harry still hadn’t touched him. It felt a lot like being transported back to his first few weeks.  He tried to remember what it had been like when Harry had just drifted around his peripheral, always staying out of reach, always watching him like a hawk. It felt like ages ago.

Almost two and a half months had passed since he’d been sentenced which was not a long time- like at all- but somehow it felt like  _years_  had passed. There was something about seeing the same cell every day, eating at the same table, standing in the same spot in the yard- that eroded time, washed away your memories of the outside world until all you remember is your life here.

The only difference between that first few weeks and now was that back then Harry could not keep his eyes off of him. Over the last few days Louis hadn’t once felt the weight of his gaze. The absence of it was…disconcerting.

It was a double edged sword. His entire existence since the moment he’d come here had included being the object of Harry’s attention. In the beginning he’d learned to find a begrudging comfort in it because it kept the other inmates in line and later it had come to feel- expected. It was automatic. Had became Louis’ default. Incredibly stifling at times- not so much that it was an act of control of Louis- as it was a feeling that he couldn’t escape Harry no matter where he went. It kept them constantly linked. Harry’s attention and Louis’ awareness of it.

So to have that suddenly gone threw him off balance.

But on the other hand he was thankful for the break. It felt so fucking good to feel like an individual again. With Harry’s constant touching and watchfulness it had almost felt at times like they blended together to become one  _thing_.

He hadn’t known what he was agreeing to when he’d assured him  _Yeah, Harry and Louis_. Hadn’t known that he was agreeing to losing himself and becoming inseparable from Harry. Or maybe he had, he’d known he needed him for survival here, just hadn’t counted on how much his own helplessness would drive him crazy.

Anger shimmered through him that even now, when all he wanted to do was bask in his freedom, Harry still had a magnetic pull on his thoughts. Louis was still goddamn aware of Harry’s presence even while he was ignoring his.

As irritating as those thoughts were he brought himself back to how long this little break would last. Louis knew that he couldn’t count on this to continue, had to soak it up and enjoy the time he had for now.

 

***

 

Two weeks later and life for Louis went from feeling like it was turning up- with the job offer from Dr. Borland and Harry leaving him alone- to absolute fucking shit.

He actually hadn’t heard back from Dr. Borland at all which pissed him off. Why make the offer when you don’t intend on following through? Maybe he’d just made all that shit up just to see if he could soften Louis up before he probed him about Harry.  It figured that everything in his life eventually came back to Harry.

Was it possible that the universe could allow him to enjoy the freedom and peace he had because Harry had completely stopped any interactions with him? Even just a little bit? Apparently, that was impossible.

Everyone else had seemed to notice the change between them. Which  _to be fair_ \- it was pretty fucking obvious. Harry’s eyes used to follow him as if Louis was the fucking sun, used to plaster his body to Louis a hundred times a day and now he’d gone back to drifting around the prison, no contact with anyone except a polite comment to guards.

Crow was getting plenty of his smarmy digs in and Louis swore to god he was going to fuck that guy up some day. As if he wasn’t pissed off enough about the situation with Borland, he had to deal with that piece of shit making barbed comments to him? And beyond that other prisoners had started to hassle him again. It was as if they sensed blood in the water. Eyeing Louis like he was a juicy peach ripe for the picking.

He’d also noticed that muscly prick corner Harry several times from afar. He’d found out his name was Maronek. He’d clenched his teeth each time he’d seen him approach Harry. Wanted to know what that fuck was saying to him. Every time Harry had stood there, hands hanging at his sides, motionless, blankly staring at something past him. It took all of his energy not to stride over there and get in Maronek’s business. Which was laughable of course because he was nowhere near his size. And what would he say to him anyway?

Ultimately, Dr. Borland’s words had wormed their way into his head, which had stopped him cold. Maybe it was better this way, separating now. Harry needed to learn how to survive when he wasn’t known as the inmate who had claimed Louis. What that would mean for him, he wasn’t sure, because you just didn’t survive in here without someone claiming you.

The past two weeks had gone by and Louis was surprised he still had hair left with the amount of time he’d spent tugging at his fringe in agitation. Borland, Crow, Moranek. All slivers that he wanted to expel from underneath his skin.

And then Harry fucking Styles. The worst of them. Anxiety and anticipation fused together in the knowledge that at some point Harry’s behavior would revert back. It was easily driving Louis insane having his thoughts pulled into a million different directions.

He dreaded the thought that any night Harry could force himself on Louis again. Hated the prickly anticipation at the back of his neck, knowing it would come but  _when_. There was the relief that rushed through him, almost wanting to instigate Harry into it because it would make everyone else back off and set Louis’ world right side up. He needed to be “claimed” again, so in that sense he was impatient for it. He was also tensely aware that he would fight him. The next time Harry tried to force him, he would struggle with every fiber of his being because he was done being helpless.

His thoughts had continued with this push and pull every day, vacillating back and forth between never wanting Harry to touch him ever again and knowing that it needed to happen.

Wanting to be an individual, but knowing for some annoying fucking reason that they survived much better as thing, a fucking  _HarryandLouis_  thing.

Louis pulled himself from his thoughts as they wound themselves tighter and tighter, lodging in his chest like a ball of barbed wire. He knew what was happening, his mind always stewed and analyzed like this when he needed release.

He laughed humorlessly as he made his way back to the cell to put the sheet up. As much as he’d been forced every single night before, he’d been having regular orgasms he thought bitterly. His body was rebelling from the loss of Harry’s touch. The thought nearly made the contents of his stomach come up. He didn’t need Harry to fuck him, he could get himself off just fine on his own.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. Apparently there were more steps to getting this sorted out, not just as simple as the Warden’s approval. Here you go-”

Borland ushered him into the office, following him to the desk.

“Have a seat and get comfortable. I’m told you will have a three hour shift three times a week to start. The Warden understandably wants to see how this goes first before we make it more frequent or more permanent.”

“Right.” Louis emphasized the  _t._

“The files over there are all labelled with a patient last name and number. Pay attention to both, I have two patients with the same last name, so here is a list of the names and corresponding numbers. I have a file saved for each patient in my documents section. Some reports you will need to scan in and then save to the corresponding patient’s folder. The written notes need to be typed up and saved. I was planning on having time to sit with you for a bit to start but I actually had a patient rearrange a meeting with me. So I will go over the tape recordings tomorrow and explain how I want you to transfer those.”

“Will do.” Louis gave him a tight smile, idly moving the keyboard back and forth on the desk. He’d noted the absence of pencils and pens, scissors, stapler and the regular items that usually littered a desk.

The doctor must have noticed his discovery and smiled in an apologetic way. “Yeah, not my choice to take those items away. It’s normal procedure. I don’t think anyone is even worried about you using them in some harmful way on yourself, but we can’t allow any opportunity for things like that to make it back to gen pop. Again, I think once rapport and trust have been built those things might change.”

Borland glanced impatiently at his watch. “Do you think you are alright in here? Just take it one folder at a time, if you come across any portions of notes that you can’t read just save what you have and set it aside. You can ask me about it next time.”

Louis nodded and he walked to the door. “Oh, and one more thing. A guard will come to collect you in three hours. They will also be stopping in to check on you in thirty minute intervals. If you have to go to the bathroom you’ll just need to ask. Just norm-“

“Normal procedure.” Louis finished acerbically. “Got it.”

Borland stepped out and he heard the lock click on the door.

Louis tensed as soon as the doctor left. He stood up and critically scanned the room. He had probably twenty-five minutes before the guard checked in on him, he needed to locate the cabinet with Harry’s file and try to figure out how to break into it. For a burglar that probably sounded easy right?

The only problem was that in order to manipulate a lock you needed some sort of tool to do so. That had been Louis’ initial disappointment when he’d noticed the cleared desk. What he wouldn’t do for a jar of paperclips right now.

He carefully pulled out each drawer in the desk, surprised to find them all without locks. He ruffled through papers, pulling most of them out as neatly as possible to see if there was a spare paperclip forgotten in one of them.

Fuck. They were spotless. More than likely the papers _looked_ randomly placed in there but he would bet every inch of this office had been meticulously combed over to make sure that nothing got into Louis’ hands.

He once again skimmed the room with his gaze, chewing his lip in concentration. His eyes landed on the stack of folders in the corner.  _The files_. He wondered if they had checked through those. Probably, but Louis would never be satisfied until he checked.

Louis was sitting on the floor with several stacks in front of him when the guard opened the door. He blinked up in surprise, couldn’t believe that much time had passed as he was searching.

“Just organizing the files.” He offered uselessly, feeling self-conscious. Hated that he felt the need to defend himself even though he had approval from the fucking Warden to be in there.

The guard looked at him, bored, chewing on a piece of gum. “Need to use the head?”

“No thanks.”

With one last glance around the room the guard stepped out and locked it again.

Footsteps faded away and Louis sighed dejectedly at the pile. He was halfway done and it looked like he was fucked. It didn’t matter if he found out where Harry’s file was because he wouldn’t be able to get to it without a goddamn tool.

Twenty minutes later and he was done going through the piles. There was nothing. It occurred to him that as much as it would drive him crazy he may not be able to get to Harry’s file on the first try. His mind was already speeding through possible ways to get his hands on something he could pilfer  _in_ here.

While he’d been at it he had separated the folders in piles by patient. He needed to make it look like he had been doing something useful, considering he wasn’t likely to have much typed up by the time his three hours were up.

He stretched his spine and laid back on the floor; itched his nose. He would need to manage a careful balance. Going through the work as slowly as possible to make it last longer, he wanted this to be a permanent position but wasn’t sure what the work load would be like once he was caught up with the backlog. But he also needed to do enough to appear efficient- didn’t want them concluding that his presence here was a waste of time.

This being his first shift was probably the most lenient he would get. Dr. Borland wouldn’t expect him to get much work done by himself with little explanation. He could fuck off a little in here before he got down to business on the computer. He glanced up at the doc’s bookshelf, praying he had something more interesting than just medical textbooks.

Louis heaved himself up off the floor and ran his fingers along the spines. Looked like he was straight out of luck. Although there was one medical book that was promising- Encyclopedia of Sexual Dysfunction. Might be interesting enough to keep his attention a bit. He was already calculating in his head how much time he would actually need to work today to look acceptable for Borland next time when the lock on the door made a noise and the guard leaned in the doorway again.

“Need to use the head?”

“No.”

Louis’ pulse started to thump quickly. The guard was looking at him steadily and glanced at the bookshelf. Louis forced himself to hide every bit of his sudden excitement.

“Alright you caught me.” He smiled conspiratorially. “Who wouldn’t be a little curious about Sexual Dysfunction? Got my attention.” He nonchalantly rubbed his fingers along the book’s pages in between the two hard covers. Yep. There it was. A bump. He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure about what it was, but he knew it wasn’t uncommon for people to use paperclips as book marks. Jesus. Please let it be true.

“Freak.” The guard huffed a laugh. “Get back to work.”

Louis saluted him with his left hand as he stepped back and shut the door, refusing to lift his right hand from the book on the off chance the guard happened to notice it too.

As soon as he was alone he counted to ten to make sure the guard didn’t decide to pop back in. He finally pulled the book off the shelf and swore under his breath in wonder. It was a paperclip. He slipped it carefully off the page and whipped around to a large filing cabinet in the corner. It’s totally possible it wasn’t it. They might have the prisoner’s records in another room, or moved them in preparation for Louis working in here.

Louis didn’t goddamn care about the doubts in his head, his blood was pumping in anticipation and until he opened it up and found that Harry’s file wasn’t in there, he would not be able to rest.

It honestly didn’t even take him that long. But then again it would have been embarrassing if it had been difficult for him. Louis had been breaking and entering into places since he was twelve years old. In the beginning he had smashed his way in, until he’d learned enough that there were smarter, stealthier ways of doing it. His quick mind and nimble fingers had felt like he’d been born to it. So breaking into a generic filing cabinet was child’s play.

It opened in less than a minute. He slipped his fingers along the tabs of the folders. Locating Harry’s file inside the cabinet actually took longer than breaking into it. And then his breath caught. The number 47156S was listed first, he knew that was Harry’s number, had heard it a thousand times for morning and nightly count. Much smaller underneath it was printed “Harry Styles” and he ate up the name even though he hadn’t needed the confirmation.

He took a deep breath, heartbeat thumping loudly in his head and opened the file. He shuffled through the papers, not sure what to look at first. There were some news clippings but six or so pages down a neatly typed report caught his attention.

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **NAME:**
> 
> | 
> 
> Harry Styles  
>   
> ---|---  
>   
> **DATE OF BIRTH:**
> 
> | 
> 
> Feb 1 1994  
>   
> **ADDRESS:**
> 
> | 
> 
> 1645 Prairie Lane
> 
> Pension, Ohio  
>   
> **COUNTY COURT:**
> 
> | 
> 
> Jepson County  
>   
> **CASE NO**
> 
> | 
> 
> 3165943-001587  
>   
> **CLAIMANT SOLICITOR**
> 
> | 
> 
> State of Ohio  
>   
> **REFERENCE:**
> 
> | 
> 
> 435896137/jones  
>   
> **DEFENDANT INSURERS:**
> 
> | 
> 
> Not as yet known  
>   
> **REFERENCE:**
> 
> | 
> 
> 1324-5375239  
>   
> **THE PSYCHOLOGY  
>  SERVICE REFERENCE**
> 
> | 
> 
> 25/JONES/CP  
>   
> **REPORT DATED:**
> 
> | 
> 
> 25 October 2008  
>   
> **(1) INTRODUCTION**
> 
> **(1.1) THE WRITER**
> 
> I am Mr. Gleeson. I am a Chartered Clinical Psychologist. My specialist field is psychological trauma an area within which I have worked over the past seventeen years. Full details of my qualifications entitling me to give expert opinion and evidence are set out at the end of this report.
> 
> **(1.2) INSTRUCTIONS**
> 
> The case concerns twenty-two incidents of alleged sexual assault in which the claimant suffered psychological and physical injury. I have been instructed by the State of Ohio to investigate for the court whether the claimant has suffered a formal psychological and/or psychiatric condition as a result of these alleged sexual assaults, and the effects and prognosis of this if appropriate. I have been provided with the claimant’s general practice notes and records.
> 
>   
>  **(2) INVESTIGATION**
> 
> CLAIMONT GENDER: MALE
> 
> CLAIMANT AGE: 14
> 
> ALLEGED AGE OF FIRST INCIDENT: 5
> 
> ALLEGED AGE OF LAST INCIDENT: 14
> 
> **(2.1) INTERVIEWS**
> 
> DATE OF INTERVIEW #1: October 6 2008
> 
> **(2.1.1) ON EXAMINATION**
> 
> Mr. Styles was withdrawn in behavior and demeanor. He never looked me in eye, often staring straight down at the table between us. When asked about the assaults in question he gave intermittent details. The claimant needed to be questioned several times about each incident due to the fact that he was not forthcoming with answers. Mr. Styles did give a clear and consistent account of the events he was willing to speak about, although the assaults are still largely unknown due to the claimant’s resistance to talk about those.
> 
> DATE OF INTERVIEW #2:  October 14 2008
> 
> **(2.1.2) ON EXAMINATION**
> 
> Mr. Styles was once again withdrawn. I tried to discuss his mother and her alleged participation in the assaults. The claimant was completely verbally unresponsive. I did note an increase in anxiety during questioning, with evidence of him clutching his thighs. At times he would fold his arms and grip his biceps. When the claimant changed positions there were indents to indicate how deeply he was pressing his nails into his skin. There were several other indications of deep distress including a slight rocking of his body forward and backward, running his fingers obsessively through his hair and continued unwillingness to look me in the eye.
> 
> The most important thing of note was his reaction to his first name. It seemed to paralyze him with fear, most notably when it was spoken softly rather than in a harsh manner.
> 
> DATE OF INTERVIEW #3: October 18 2008
> 
> **(2.1.3) ON EXAMINATION**
> 
> Mr. Styles was fidgety. He presented himself as more responsive to answer questions, albeit he was often monosyllabic. I was able to successfully piece together three incidents. From the sparse details the claimant gave I would place these incidents before the age of six. According to the answers given, the perpetrators were male, mid- thirties with a possible link to the mother.
> 
> DATE OF INTERVIEW #4: October 26 2008
> 
> **(2.1.4) ON EXAMINATION**
> 
> Mr. Styles was once again completely unresponsive. No verbal reaction to my questions. No non-verbal cues to indicate that he was even hearing what I was saying. The claimant stared down at the table for the entire interview, body completely still.
> 
> DATE OF INTERVIEW #5: October 30 2008
> 
> **(2.1.5) ON EXAMINATION**
> 
> This was the longest interview to date but the most productive. Mr. Styles continued to display withdrawn body cues, hunching his shoulders into himself, staring at the table/floor/wall/mid-air. He held his hands in his lap, often clenching them painfully together as he gave answers. The claimant was very resistant to give details, but through consistent questioning I have enough information to piece together several assaults.
> 
>  
> 
> **(2.2.1) THE INCIDENTS AND SUBSEQUENT DEVELOPMENTS**
> 
> Through a series of five interviews with the claimant I can confidently lay out the events of seven assaults. The evidence I have for these findings include both video record of the direct answers from Mr. Styles himself and my own conclusions via professional analysis of his body language/demeanor during questioning.
> 
> The first sexual assault occurred at the age of five, the most recent of the seven assaults at the age of thirteen. All occurred at the hands of male perpetrators, never the same man. All were instigated by his mother.
> 
> The mother was present during the earlier assaults. Although, Mr. Styles would not confirm, I can say with an expert opinion that his reaction to the name “Harry” indicates that this is closely tied to the sexual assaults. Through remarks of the claimant she was known to run her fingers through his hair when he was younger. It is my professional opinion that this act was used to calm Mr. Styles while he was being assaulted as well as softly whispering his name into his ear.
> 
> Evidence indicates that his mother was a drug user and would have more than likely used her son as payment for her habits.
> 
> As Mr. Styles got older, beginning at the age of ten he began to fight his perpetrators. At this age his mother was not present for the assaults. Due to the fact that the claimant began to resist, the perpetrators became more violent in their interactions, often resorting to choking, partial suffocation and means of gagging.
> 
> I have conclusive details which shall be laid out according to each incident further on in the report but it is my professional opinion that these events occurred much more than seven times. That is simply the number of incidents I have been able to gather from the details the claimant has given. I also believe that- although I was able to pinpoint the most recent of the seven confirmed assaults at the age of thirteen- that Mr. Styles continues to suffer assaults at his present age. There are indications in his behavior that prove to me that this is ongoing and not only related to his past.

 

Louis dropped the file and dodged over to the desk, he’d seen a plastic garbage bin under it earlier. His stomach twisted viciously and emptied itself. He spit a few more times into the bin and sat back against the wall next to the cabinet.

The horror of what he’d read washed over him. How had Harry survived? Fuck, five years old. He took several deep breaths to try to calm his stomach that was wanting to rebel against him again. Twenty-two alleged assaults, seven “confirmed” by the doctor whatever the fuck that meant, but his certainty that there were many more than that. What happens to you when you are forced to endure that year after year? Especially as a child.

Had anyone ever protected Harry? Louis held the back of his hand to his mouth, hoping to fend off another round of nausea. His own mother.  _Jesus._  The one person who was supposed to look out for you more than anyone else.

Had he ever had  _anyone_ since the day he was born that looked out for him?

It made his blood boil. Turned it to thick black, dark sludge.

After a moment it occurred to him that this was the explanation as to why Harry fucked him the way he did. He was acting as the aggressor. He probably needed to in order to feel like he was in control.

So many things slid into place. He wondered if Harry was more aware of things than he was letting on. The way he had blocked Louis after that first group meeting he had been to. At first, Louis hadn’t thought much about it, all he could feel was the blind rage of how one more part of his life in here was being controlled. Now that he looked back, it seemed plausible that Harry had not wanted him to find out about him.

He narrowed his eyes in thought, rubbing his fingers over the stubble on his chin.

Were you as psycho as you acted, Mr. Styles? Or was it all an act? Or was it a little of both?

His thoughts trailed back to the Bianchi discovery. Harry had looked calm and collected even when everything had erupted into chaos around him. And that fucking slip of a smirk. The fucker was more than he seemed alright. He was also certain that Harry’s faraway moments, the shine of eeriness in his eyes wasn’t being faked. He’d been too close to it and worked too hard in those moments to pull him back to clarity. That shit was real too. So a little bit of both then.

But all the time in between- the staring at Louis, him chatting and Harry never answering or responding back, the times he had run his fingers through Louis’ hair- he was confident that Harry was completely aware during those times now. Maybe he had just learned to stay silent as a coping mechanism. Well fuck if this hadn’t turned everything on its head.

Panic seized him as he realized he had no idea how much time had passed as he had sat here sorting out his thoughts. Could have been ten minutes, could’ve been twenty-five. He shot up and stepped back over to the file laid open on the pulled out cabinet drawer. Knowing his time was precious he flipped back to the newspaper clippings, needing to know how Harry had ended up here.

His world blurred a bit as he looked at the headline. Triple-homocide. Two men and one woman. Louis closed his eyes. He could guess who they were. He scanned through the articles and his assumptions were confirmed. God, Harry looked so young in the pictures even though it listed him as twenty years old at the time. He glanced at the papers underneath the clippings, knowing he didn’t have much more time. What he saw made him swallow thickly. They were reports from the murder trial and apparently some of the subject matter had been in reference to the psychologist’s report from 2008 that he had already been through. It took him a moment to realize that nothing had been done with that report. That fucking psychologist had reported what had happened to Harry- had even said he was certain Harry was still being assaulted still at the time of the interviews. The State of Ohio had commissioned that guy, and then what? Something had happened to make the report inadmissible? None of the assaults against him had been prosecuted.

Jesus Christ. Harry had gone back home with his mother after all of that. Louis pressed fingers into his closed eyelids. Harry had gone right back to the assault he’d suffered for so long. No one had saved him from it. Until years later, when Harry finally decided enough was enough.

Goddamn it- he felt relief sing through him. And it was fucked up, but he was so happy that Harry had fucking gotten some justice against those people. It made him sick too because it in no way equaled Harry’s suffering. It almost didn’t feel like justice because it was only two of his assailants and his sick mother.

And it’s no wonder that Harry didn’t bother talking to anyone. He’d learned in the very worst way that speaking up didn’t help him in any way. Silence had become a way of life for him.

Completely drained, head swimming with emotions, Louis put everything back in the folder exactly as it had been and slipped it back where it had come from. He closed the cabinet and fumbled with the paperclip until it was locked once again.                                                                                      

He grabbed a file from the floor and sat quickly down in the chair at the desk, certain that the guard would be coming soon. He stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him for several minutes before he heard the lock release in the door.

“Damn.” The guard made a face when he stepped halfway in.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I got sick.” He shrugged guiltily and pointed at the garbage bin.

“Do you need to go back to gen pop now?”

“No, I’d prefer to stay if it’s okay. Can I go to the bathroom though to rinse out my mouth?”

He didn’t want to stay, but he was worried that somehow this incident would look badly on him to Dr. Borland because he knew it would be reported to him. He saw it as a weaker move to go back before his shift was up. He could manage an hour and half of mindless typing.

“I’ll take you to the head now.”

 

***

 

He laid in his bed that night and couldn’t sleep. It was about an hour past the count and he was pretty sure Harry wasn’t asleep on the bed above him. He felt weary throughout every fiber of his being. His eyelids were heavy but for some reason his body just wouldn’t drift off.

Harry didn’t know that Louis knew. Something was moving around inside him, restless, making him feel off kilter. Like vertigo- when you couldn’t get your balance, nothing was upright- only the feeling wasn’t physical.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth. Then closed it. Jesus, what was he supposed to say? Maybe Harry was sleeping. But he knew better than that, he’d slept long enough in this cell with him to know the even breaths Harry made in his sleep. He slid his hands under his head and stared up at the crisscrossing metal of the bed frame above him.

“I know, Harry.” He said, voice light and barely there.

Louis chewed his lips, nervous now that the admission was out there. He strained to hear any response, but there was silence. It’s not like he expected an answer back, but nevertheless his ears strained for anything- a breath, a shift of Harry’s body, a creak of the mattress.

“About everything.” Louis clarified. He was certain Harry knew what he meant but just in case. Silence continued and he couldn’t help but apologize in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry.”

It was probably everything that Harry didn’t want to hear. What did sorry even mean? How could it cover Louis’ sorrow over everything he’d been through? It was laughable.

The silence was driving him crazy.

“Hey.” He swung his feet up until they were pressing into the bottom of Harry’s bed and gave him a few bumps. “It’s just- it is what it is.”

The words felt right to him. He thought about what it would feel like if he had a past like that. He wouldn’t want people knowing his business either, especially that much detail.

Guilt sliced through him as he thought about the careless way he’d traipsed through Harry’s privacy without regard for anything but appeasing his own curiosity. Fuck. But what was done was done.

He sure as hell knew if he were in Harry’s position and someone did find out, he wouldn’t want them to fucking pity him. Harry needed to know that it was just- whatever. Louis knowing didn’t have to be a thing.

He let his legs drop down, heart jumping into his throat when he heard a shifting on the mattress above him. Louis stared at the edge of the bed above him, nerves shattered in the anticipation that Harry would lean over the side at any moment. A minute passed with Louis’ heart galloping in his chest before he gave up the idea that Harry was going to respond to him.

He sighed and turned over onto his stomach- scrubbed his face into his pillow and hoped that sleep would just knock him the fuck out.

 

***

 

Louis was just returning his tray from morning chow when a guard walked up to him. “You need to follow me. Dr. Borland needs to meet with you.”

He scraped his teeth together and nodded, instantly unsettled. Had he figured out that Louis had been in Harry’s file? He tried to remember if he had left any scratches on the lock that would have hinted at fowl play and potentially given him away. Or was Borland unimpressed with his work and wanted to terminate the deal? He had woken up uneasy as it was with Harry still not talking or looking at him, which was fertile soil for the seeds of panic to grow as he followed the guard back to Borland’s office.

“Louis, come in.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk and nodded at the guard. He heard the door close behind him.

Louis carefully sat down. He found it impossible to ease the tension in his shoulders. “Is something wrong with my work?”

“No, this has to do with Harry.” Borland replied.

Louis’ jaw went rigid, a muscle right next to his eye twitching. He sniffed and readjusted in his chair hoping it would cover over the show of nerves. Then regretted it. The movement screamed discomfort. Panic settled heavy in his gut, making his stomach burn. Louis usually had better control over his reactions but this was a potentially very serious situation and in here he did not have a prayer of having the upper hand which usually helped steel himself in scenarios like this.

“What about Harry?” He asked. It didn’t quite come out as casually as he had hoped, the edges of his tension making the words clipped.

“I wanted to follow up with you about what we discussed last time.” Borland’s assessing gaze probed his eyes. “I’ve noticed a difference in Harry over the last several group sessions. It’s very minor but as a doctor I always like to follow up on these things. Have you distanced yourself from him?”

Although Louis wasn’t entirely comfortable with this line of questioning to begin with, it was a hell of a lot better than what he had feared. A long breath eased out of his body and he felt his heartbeat start to slow it’s frantic pace. “Is that something you had asked me to do?”

“Well,” the doctor shrugged. “In not so many words. I warned you about the bonds that can form and that it is unhealthy between inmates with varying sentences.”

Louis nodded, recalling the conversation perfectly. “Yep, got that.”

Borland continued. “And also- sometimes if we come across someone that we view as more ‘messed up’ than ourselves, it is easy to think we can try to change that person.”

“And this has to do with me why?” Louis quizzed testily.

“I’ve read his file. There’s no going back for this guy. He’s never going to change.”

Everything in him wanted to say  _I read his file too and do you blame him?_ But at the same time something about the definitive way Borland said that raised his hackles. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be given the opportunity to change?

“Isn’t that your job?”

The doctor gave him a tired smile. “Sometimes the responsibility of a doctor is to recognize that a patient is past the point of correction and to just be there to help mitigate any excessive fluxes of emotion and behavior. So I just wanted to offer you some friendly advice. Don’t think you can change him.”

“Is that what you think I’m trying to do?” Louis gave nothing away with his expression.

“I’m not sure.” Borland answered. “But I do know that Harry’s change in demeanor is a reaction to outward influences and you seem to be the most likely candidate.”

Louis didn’t appreciate Borland’s indirect accusations. “Well, you will be happy to know that he hasn’t spoken or looked at me in weeks, so bond effectively severed.” He offered an acidic smile. “And there’s also the fact that maybe I don’t want to change him. Because frankly, I don’t give a fuck about him.”

He shrugged a shoulder and blinked at the doctor. “Can I go now?” He pressed, some of his confidence coming back that he had lost earlier.

After a long look, Borland sighed and nodded. “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you for coming and I’ll see you tomorrow for your shift. We’ll go over the other aspects I didn’t have time to yesterday.”

 

***

 

Louis chewed on is lips as he stared through the yard fence. The conversation with Borland ate at him. Obviously he had affected a bit of bravado there at the end. He just didn’t want to be the doctor’s vessel of information on Harry anymore. Saying he didn’t give a fuck seemed like an easy enough way to shut everything down.

He turned and leaned back against the chain link. Harry was in his usual spot lifting weights. Louis watched him from afar and sighed. When he had told Borland that he didn’t want to change Harry that had felt true at the time.

But now the more he thought about it, it was wrong. The thing that he kept coming back to was Harry refusing to let Louis come to the meetings. Why? Because Louis would have found out more about him? Because he might have put two and two together and realized that Harry was a lot more aware than he was letting on? Considering those possibilities, then yeah he does want to change Harry, make him fucking redeem the shit he’d done to Louis.

He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, a small flash of pain coming from the bitten skin. He needed to talk to him.

Louis walked over to the weight bench and stopped right at the end by Harry’s head. “I need to talk to you.”

Harry continued to lift the bar up and down,  paying him no mind. Louis ran his hand roughly through his fringe in irritation. The next time Harry raised the bar he gripped it with both his hands and twisted, effectively wrenching it from his grip. Once it was settled back on the metal posts he strode back to the fence line. He knew that Harry would follow him, or at least he  _better_  fucking follow him. It was a full minute before he felt the presence of him at his side.

He turned his body toward Harry. “Obviously I’ve had quite a few revelations recently, but I talked to you about that last night and it’s done. We don’t have to talk about. Ever. Something you should know? I’m not dumb. So you can put on your little act for everyone else but cut the shit with me, okay?”

Harry’s eyes landed on his. Jesus, he wasn’t prepared for that. His hair looked the same as always, long and slightly curly and his eyes were the same clear green he’d remembered. He had to remind himself that not long ago he couldn’t go anywhere without those eyes following him. He coughed to cover up his sharp intake of breath.

“I know there’s such a thing as a victim acting out in the behavior of their aggressor.” Louis explained and Harry’s jawline hardened. “And I know there are times when you go someplace, in your own head, in your past, I don’t fucking know. I know that you often went there when you did what you did to me, but fuck, Harry. You aren’t some lunatic that doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. You are aware of your actions.” Louis emphasized.

He felt some small level of satisfaction when Harry’s mouth tightened, jaw clenching so hard his muscles were bulging out. He hadn’t looked away from Louis but his eyes were a deep inky green. He remained stubbornly silent so Louis continued.

“It’s complicated, I know. The dynamic in here- if it hadn’t been you-” Louis’ eyes dropped to the ground for the first time. “It would have been someone else. But that doesn’t mean the dynamic cannot change. I should be given a choice on when I am fucked or if I’m fucked at all.”

Harry ran his tongue along his front teeth, his expression inscrutable. “What do you propose then?”

Louis saw out of his peripheral that someone was coming. “That oatmeal was horrible this morning wasn’t- oh hello.” He offered the guard cheerfully.

The guard glanced suspiciously at both of them and the fence.

Louis couldn’t help a bit of laughter from bubbling up, tried to press it between his lips but just ended up making a funny noise as it burst through. He saw the look on the guard's face and threw his hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean that I swear, it’s just, were you worried that we were trying to draw up a plan to bust out of here or something? You think out of anyone I would choose him to escape with? I’d be better off shooting myself in the foot.”

Louis had to tamp down on the buzz of something, gratification maybe, because as he was talking Harry had cleared his face, relaxed his stance and now stared out with emptiness in his eyes as the guard turned to look at him. Jesus. Harry was  _good_.

The guard smirked and dipped his head at Louis as if conceding his point and walked away.

Right before his eyes Harry’s demeanor completely changed and his eyes were fastened back on Louis, sharp and unflinching. If they were anywhere but prison Louis would find him shady as fuck, but Harry had been here two years longer than Louis, he couldn’t imagine the façade that he had to have built in order to make himself seem odd enough that everyone just left crazy Styles alone. He was grudgingly impressed. But then with everything else that Harry had survived in his life- Louis swallowed thickly- he imagined Harry would always find a way to endure anything.

“Right then. I think you and I both know that you owe me. I need for us to fake like we’re a thing again. Like things were before. Without the actual fucking because that is something I am enjoying living without. What I don’t appreciate is everyone else gearing up to take over for you now that they think you are out.”

Harry’s face was once again indecipherable. He responded, voice deep and slow, “So you want me to stare at you and press into your back when we stand together, and run my fingers through your hair.”

Heat scored along the sides of his neck. Well, when put that way it sounded- different. “Yes.” He coughed. “Because that is what you were doing when I was ‘claimed’ by you. Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” He pressed two fingers between his eyes. “Only you probably don’t need to do it quite so much. And of course-” Louis dropped his eyes to Harry’s shoulder in order to finish. “we will need to pretend that you are fucking me at night- just some nights.”

He raised his eyes to Harry, who was staring at him, his own dark and enigmatic. Harry said nothing.

“We will have to make it convincing.” Louis tried to say it all matter-of-factly to try to prevent the humiliation from overwhelming him. “I have come up with a plan though. They’ll need to hear noises so I think you should jerk off and I will try to make accompanying noises.”

“Sounds that you are enjoying it.” Harry added; curious.

“Don’t.” Louis’ stomach burned that Harry would make a comment that hinted as if the times between them were anything but forced. It also burned because of the fact that despite being forced there had been pleasure. Some of the best orgasms of his life he remembered angrily. “Don’t fucking make light of that shit. But yes, that is what will happen.”

The bell sounded signaling that yard time was over. He sighed when Harry started back toward the prison without any sort of affirmative response. So was the deal on? Louis scraped his teeth over his tender bottom lip to distract himself from the frustration he was feeling.

 

***

 

Apparently the deal was not fucking on.

He hadn’t really gotten a confirmation from him but he still had assumed that the very fact that they discussed it had kind of set it all in motion. But it had now been another week and things carried on between them the way they had. Separate.

Louis ground his teeth as three prisoners walked toward him. Only one of them looked familiar to him, Sellick he was almost certain, and probably two of his goons.  He stopped and waited. It’s not like he was going to be able to fucking escape this. Might as well just get it over with. Sure enough two of them shoved him up against the wall while Sellick stepped in. He bit down on the insides of his cheeks as the piece of shit gripped his hair and pulled his head back. Hips pressed into his and without thought he laughed. Full on. In that fucker’s face. He was feeling dangerously numb to any repercussions.

“The least you could do is threaten me with a big, hard cock. I’m supposed to be scared of that tiny, soft thing?” Louis scorned.

Breathe expelled out of him at the fist that slammed into his gut. Trying to pull air through his nose felt like an impossible task. He finally breathed through the pain. Fuck this guy.

“Simon is your bitch isn’t he? Goddamn he has an easy job. How manly can you possibly feel slipping _that_  in someone’s mouth?” He laughed again before another fist slammed into his face. He went blank for a moment as the back of his head hit the wall. Nothing was in focus, just the feel of hands releasing him.

“You’re fucking lucky the guards are coming. This isn’t over Tomlinson.”

Is anything in this place ever truly over? He slid down the wall until his ass hit the floor, leaning his head into his arms that were perched on his knees. He chuckled darkly, an edge of hysteria in it. This was his fucking life now he had to remind himself.

 

***

 

Harry was taking a piss in the cell when he got there in time for the count. Louis watched as he shook himself off and turned around, running a hand through his hair.

“What happened to you?” Harry asked, surprise coloring his deep voice.

Today was just full of laughs. Harry hadn’t said a word to him in a week and even before that he never initiated it. He snorted at Harry’s question, eyebrows dropping and head jerking back at the absurdity. “Okay. First.” He lifted a thumb up. “None of your fucking business. And second.” He lifted his index. “Fuck off. Now can you kindly move so I can take a piss?”

“Let me look at that split in your eyebrow.”

Louis’ eyes bugged out of his head. “Thanks but no thanks. I’m  _good_.” He stressed.

“I do know a little bit about having split eyebrows.” He replied quietly.

Louis ground his teeth, shoving away the sympathy that wanted to rise up at the admission. He reminded himself that he wouldn’t be in this fucking position if Harry had just agreed to the deal. Harry apparently hadn’t given a shit before so why should he now?

“I’m good.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded at the toilet.

Harry surrendered and stepped aside.

 

***

 

Injuries were a sign of weakness.

This was something that he was quickly finding out about. He’d been assaulted three times this morning by dumb fucks who seemed to think the fact that he already had a few bruises meant he needed more. And Sellick had come back for a bit of revenge as he had promised.

Each time he took a breath his ribs hurt. He was pretty sure none of them were broken but bruised  _for sure_.

He was on his way to chow when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Harry was standing awkwardly off to himself. He narrowed his eyes on Maronek who was walking away. There was something about Harry’s posture and expression that sent a bad feeling fluttering through him.

He glanced back at the stream of prisoners headed to lunch and wanted to slip into the crowd and forget he ever saw him. It’s not like Harry gave a shit about what happened to  _him_. He followed the direction of everyone else, but only made it a few feet before he slowed, one thought filtering up through all the others. _Had he ever had anyone since the day he was born that looked out for him?_

His eyes slammed shut, remembering everything that had run through his mind after he had read Harry’s file. It sickened him all over again and a feeling rushed through him, strong and quick. It wasn’t pity. Louis didn’t know what it was, but it was fierce and overwhelming. Louis made his way over and it only took a second to see that Harry’s eyes were glued to some point in the distance, an odd stillness to his body.

“Harry.” He poked him in the shoulder. “Let’s go, it’s time for chow.”

Harry was completely unresponsive. Louis frowned. He hadn’t been this deep since one of his first encounters with it. He stepped closer and curved his hands around the line of his jaw, smoothing his thumbs over his cheekbones as he had that first time. “Hey. Come on, Harry. Get out of that head of yours.”

He kept flicking his glance between both of Harry’s eyes, waiting for some sort of lucidity to come flooding back in. “You fucker.” He pressed the tips of his fingers into his skin, but there was no reaction. His eyes were still a deep dark green, wide and unblinking.

He glanced away to see how many stragglers there were. They needed to get to chow  _now_. He wasn’t looking forward to being punished for this.

Arms slipped around him so fast that a gasp was pushed out in both surprise and pain. Louis bit his lip against the searing agony of his grasp around his body. Harry didn't need to know the pain he was causing him. Pushing it aside he slipped his hand around the back of his head, fisted his hand in Harry’s hair as tightly as he could and tugged, trying to pull his head back.

“Okay, now it’s time to go. Harry. Let’s fucking go to chow.” He kept tugging, to the point of pain he was certain but sometimes that was the best thing to pull one out of it.

Finally there was some give and Harry’s head leaned back, eyes blinking several times until they fastened on Louis. “Are you back with me?” It was mostly rhetorical because he could see that he was. There was a familiar feeling running under his skin with Harry looking at him so intensely. “Good because we have to go. We’re really fucking late.”

He finally released him and Louis bit his lip even harder to prevent a hiss of pain from escaping. The taste of blood flooded his mouth. It was something that he could easily wash away with whatever they were serving for lunch.

 

***

 

His bed was definitely the bane of his fucking existence.

Lights had gone out an hour ago but it felt like six. He couldn’t stop moving around. His ribs were killing him, no position was comfortable and then moving to a new position was even more agonizing. He had what felt like permanent indents on the inside of his cheeks where he’d been biting down to prevent whines from passing his lips.

The slap of feet on the cement alerted him that Harry had just hopped down. He grabbed the edge of the upper frame and curved his head below. “What’s going on?” Harry asked so low that it took a moment to figure out what he had asked.

“Just can’t get comfortable.” He answered with a shrug that he instantly regretted. He knew that he hadn’t kept the grimace from his face.

“Let me see.” Harry sat gently down on the edge of the mattress. There was firmness in his tone that made him think he would not get away with a  _fuck off_  this time.

He gingerly lifted the orange top and white shirt beneath.

Harry sucked in a breath. Louis gritted his teeth in anticipation, Harry’s wide eyes were affixed to his skin as he reached out to run his fingertips lightly across the deep purple bruising. He would’ve slapped his hand away but he was too worried it would cause him more pain than just letting it happen.

He continued to stare down at the purplish mess Louis knew was smattered all over his middle. A faint light was shining into the cell. It was pretty damn dark in there but never truly lights out considering that guards walked the floors of cells all night long.

He looked like he was thinking, working things out in his own head. Eventually Harry’s glittering eyes captured his. “Did you have this earlier?”

Louis knew what he had worked out. He was thinking back on the intense embrace he’d engulfed Louis in earlier. He held his gaze, silent, not wanting to give him confirmation. He ended it with a shrug of one shoulder, knowing that Harry could probably see the truth in his eyes whether he wanted to show it or not.

“Who did this?” Harry rasped out.

“No one important.” He gritted out. One more light trace of Harry’s fingers had Louis sucking in a breath. He met Harry’s eyes and stilled. The dim light illumining their faces revealed the darkness in Harry’s, the tightness in his jawline. Louis couldn’t ignore the fluttering of his stomach as he remembered what Harry had done in retaliation to Bianchi. He was certain that Harry’s question might have a similar purpose. He didn’t know what to think, just laid there, breathing as shallowly as possible, trying to make as little movement around his ribs, blinking up at Harry’s impenetrable expression.

Harry’s eyes closed and he asked one more time through clenched jaws. “Who did this?”

Something twisted in his stomach, a heat that burned, and it was out before he could stop it. “Sellick”

Harry’s eyes snapped open and it felt like a punch to his system, that all-consuming gaze. He suppressed a shiver, knowing what he’d more than likely set in motion and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to fucking regret it.

“Goodnight.” Harry’s head bobbed and then before Louis could respond he had pulled himself up to the bed above.

 

***

 

His body felt marginally better in the morning. The tightness around his ribs had increased which made breathing a little more difficult, but he’d also lost some of the tenderness. So each breath didn’t feel like a stab into his ribs every time. He’d take the trade.

Memories of the night before flooded his mind. He felt jittery at the knowledge that he’d given Harry Sellick’s name. Knew that nothing good would come of it, but at the same time. He just. There was something swollen in his gut that felt like anticipation and a lowgrade satisfaction. It grew until it was humming through his veins. He wanted to tamp down on it, wanted to push it away, but it was just there.

Louis was in the awful fucking position in here where he had a difficult time defending himself. Just the thought made his jaws harden. He hated it. He hated having to lean on someone else for his own protection. This truth was ugly and he didn’t want to acknowledge it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to go on being true with or without his approval.

He felt like that is what he had finally done last night when he’d given Harry the name. He could’ve refused, he’s not a pushover. But he’d finally relinquished his stubborn refusal to accept his situation here. He did need someone else’s protection. If the last week or so hadn’t driven that fucking home nothing would have.

Accepting it didn’t feel the way he thought it would have. He had expected shame and humiliation to sink into every part of him but it was actually the exact opposite. To his own surprise he’d uttered Sellick’s name and felt a soft nudge of power. He’d been breathless with it when he’d witnessed the look in Harry’s eyes. The very idea that all it took was the soft muttering of someone’s name on his lips.

That satisfaction buzzing through him right now was from knowing that some way, somehow Harry would make that asshole pay.

Maybe the situation yesterday had helped. Harry needed him too whether he acknowledged that fact or not. It helped him accept Harry’s protection when he knew that he offered Harry something in return.

It still wouldn’t solve all of Louis’ problems, an example being some prick watching him right now, licking his lips lewdly, as he crossed over to the day room. He wasn’t even sure why he had ventured out of their cell today because it was the best protection he had against all the unwanted attention he received. He guessed there had been something about knowing Sellick had it coming to him that had emboldened him.

There were a decent amount of inmates in there, enough that Louis moved to stand at a spot against the back of the couch in order to watch the TV. They had a cooking channel on, not the Food Network, but another one, the kind that was free because no way in hell they were gonna pay for cable in here.

Louis got wrapped up in the woman making some sort of savory pie, laughing here and there at some of the others’ comments. Groans and complaints about the food they have to endure here. One of them announcing cockily about everything he was going to eat when he got out of prison. It made Louis think about it. Envisioning his life after prison.

The reality sunk in that he would have to learn to do something other than burglary. Get a “real job”.  It certainly wouldn’t be fucking easy for him. He’d been a thief practically his whole life, but the system had done its job. Once he was out, there was no way he was going to find himself back in here.

He continued to watch the show, but his mind was fully immersed in this daydream. He thought of his family, his little sisters and little brother, wondered how they were doing right now coping without him. He’d never seen them that often even before he got here, mostly watching from afar while they played at a playground. But at least they had been properly taken care of. He’d seen to that with the envelopes of cash he’d always carefully placed, hidden next to his mother’s back porch. She was aware of how he got the money, she’d always been aware of his nimble fingers even before he’d left, so she knew. In that vague way you can only be about a son who never shows up except to leave money at your doorstep. He was aware she didn’t approve, but she also had six children to take care of by herself, so she took the money.

It had always meant a lot to him that he could help. It had soothed his guilt over running away at sixteen, pissed off that his dad had abandoned him and too overwhelmed at home when he was expected to help with the babies. He’d been immature when he ran away from his responsibility and then as the years went by he had been too proud to go back and admit that he’d been wrong, that he shouldn’t have left. At that point all he had left was to help his mom by leaving those envelopes.

The idea that at some point years down the road he would have the ability to change, to be there for his mom in a way he never was, it scared him.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a burst of annoyed shouts rang out at someone moving to stand in front of the TV. Louis didn’t have the slightest clue who the guy was but his eyes were trained right on him. Jesus, he couldn’t go a day without gaining someone’s attention in here.

“Tomlinson, we need to have a little talk about Sellick.” The guy grinned at him, the menace in his voice was clear.

Louis’ pulse started to race a bit at the question.

“Why would you need to talk to me about him?” He eyed the two other guys that came in with him warily. They were slowly moving their way around either side of the couch and the other prisoners were parting like the red sea, enjoying the show and glad it wasn’t directed at any of them.

“He’s away right now with two broken arms and a busted kneecap. Not doin’ too good, you know?”

Louis blinked several times, face giving nothing away, but fire burned through his veins in sweet gratification. The jitteriness he’d felt earlier returned, making him want to vibrate out of his skin, wanting to know the when, the how, every little fucking detail of how Harry had done it.

The guy sniffed and rolled his neck, cracking it. “Heard you got some pretty little bruises on your ribs from him. Just want to have a nice chat about it.”

Louis noted the tightening fists at the guy’s sides. Louis most certainly didn’t want to have a chat. He flicked his eyes to either side as the two other prisoners were closing in on him. His mind frantically raced to figure out how to get himself out of this one. Panic seized him as someone stepped up behind him.

“Deal.” Harry whispered into his ear, inaudible to anyone but him. And then Louis felt the familiar blanketing of Harry’s body against his back, his chin hooked over his shoulder. Louis’ whole entire body sagged against him.

Harry casually slipped a hand up his shirts, gliding it over his stomach until he was rubbing the pad of his finger against Louis nipple underneath the fabric. He resisted the desire to squirm at Harry treating him like his plaything. It was an effective show of ownership but still irked him.

He saw something cloud the guy’s face in front of him and he glanced at the other two who stopped their progress. Harry may not be a formidable giant but he was a wildcard to everyone, so he’d more than likely just put a screw in this guy’s plans. In that few moments of hesitance the guys on the couch shouted a few more complaints about blocking the TV. Noise started to return the room as everyone sensed that nothing was going to happen anymore.

The guy moved from his spot with a “fuck you” to everyone on the couch, but his eyes blazed on Louis. Harry’s fingernail scraped his nipple and he gasped, his ass instinctively pressing backward. He was furious at his own reaction and elbowed Harry, hissing out a breath because of the pain the action caused him in his ribs.

“Enough.” Louis snapped quietly as he watched the three of them stride out of the room.

 

***

 

“So you’re agreeing to this then?” Louis questioned him carefully. They’d just finished the nightly count. Everyone was in their cells. He and Harry stood opposite each other, Louis’ back against the bars, Harry leaning up against the sink.

Harry nodded; silent. Louis moved toward him until he was right in front of him. What he had to say next he didn’t want anyone else to hear. Despite the heat that rushed up his neck he maintained eye contact.

“So you’re going to-” He made a jacking off motion with his hand.

Harry nodded once again, dark eyes shining in the low light. “And you’re going to make noises.”

Louis jerked his head in assent. He wanted to get this the fuck over. It was definitely the worst part of his plan. At this point he could handle Harry’s staring, the obligatory shows of ownership. It was necessary, but fuck, so was this. He wouldn’t stop getting the aggressive advances until everyone well and truly believed he was already taken by Harry.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” Louis asserted, voice hoarse. He slipped down to his bed as Harry hopped up to his.

There was shuffling of clothes above him and Louis assumed he was pulling his pants down. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out how the fuck he’d ended up in this position. Christ.

There was clearly movement happening above him, telltale shakes of the bed that alluded to Harry beginning to tug on himself. A couple minutes passed and could hear heavy breathing and little grunts. It made his heart thunder because he knew he needed to make a noise  _now_. He tried to think of how he would’ve sounded the previous times between them but his head had been so crowded with vitriol at being forced into it he could barely even remember making noise. After a few moments, he recalled whines that had slipped out a few times without his permission.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Desperation flashed through him. This was his fucking idea, he needed to follow through, but it was so absurd that his entire face was ablaze in humiliation. Goddamn it. He was really gonna get stage fright now? It was like his throat had frozen up and he couldn’t force himself to make any noise.

Panic caused one idea to flutter through him.

He  _could_  get himself off too. He wouldn’t need to fake the noises then. The idea sent relief soaring through him, so fucking thankful he could get past the faking noises bullshit. He couldn’t exactly shout the new plan up to Harry. He stood up, grabbed the metal of the top part of the bunk and stepped on his own mattress to pull himself up.

“Hey.”

He kept his gaze on his face. Harry turned to him brows furrowed in question. Louis swallowed. “I can’t fake it. So if you could like- slow the fuck down- I’m gonna have to get myself off too.” He ignored the fact that Harry was still jerking himself in Louis’ peripheral vision.

“Slow down.” Harry repeated, closing his eyes for moment as the muscles in his throat strained.

In the edge of his vision, Louis could tell that Harry was squeezing himself now, hips lifting up a few times.

“Yes.” he replied. “Just give me a minute and you can start again.” Louis give him a final nod and slipped back down to his mattress. He pushed his pants down, kicking everything off and palmed himself. It had been awhile. He made his mind go blank and gripped himself loosely in his fist. He didn’t really have the time to lazily work himself up properly so he just got straight to it. In no time his breaths were coming quicker. He twisted his fist just so as he slid up toward the head and a low groan expelled from his mouth.

 He heard a grunt above him and assumed that Harry had started back up. He dug his heels into the mattress and stripped his hand up and down his cock. He was breathing heavy right along with Harry now. He focused on his own movements but the low noises coming from Harry’s throat were making him tug harder on his cock. He had no idea what he was  _supposed_  to sound like so he just let himself go and allowed the breathy little moans to pass his lips.

The noises above him turned more guttural and Louis felt a burn in his hips as they jerked up to meet his fist sliding down. The pleasure was building and he sped up, twisting his grip on each pass near the head.

He felt the bed above him jerk once and then a loud grunt and he started coming, tugging himself through it fast and tight, harsh breaths mixing with a short keen at the end. The buzz of orgasm had hit him fast, if not quite as hard as he’s been used to. After his heart rate calmed down a bit he leaned over gingerly and grabbed the corner of the sheet on his bed to wipe his stomach off.

Exhaustion pulled at him as he dragged his pants back up his legs and fell onto his stomach. He hoped this little show they had put on was convincing. Sure as hell would’ve convinced him. He yawned, pressing his face into his pillow and he adjusted his position.

The only thing he figured was missing was the sound of Harry’s balls slapping his ass.

 

***

 

The next morning Louis felt like he was in a twilight zone. Could hear the fucking music in his head like a theme song.

Had the last three weeks actually happened? Had they?

He’d woken to the clang of a guard’s baton on the metal bars of someone’s cell. One glance to his left had notified him that Harry was taking a shit in the toilet. Fucking great. He pressed his face further into his pillow hoping that he didn’t suffocate himself while he tried not to breathe in the toxic air.

Things hadn’t gotten bizarre though until they were headed to breakfast and Harry pressed himself up against Louis’ body as much as he could as they walked. When they stood in line Harry plastered himself to Louis. When they sat down he stared at him as he slowly ate his oatmeal. Now all of  _that_ had set off the twilight zone music in his head.

It felt like he had literally travelled through time. Like any minute he was going to whisper Harry’s name in his ear and he was going to freeze up like he had when Louis had first had the idea to try to “break” him of his reaction to his first name. Only now he knew a hell of a lot more than he did then. He definitely hadn’t gone back in time because what he knew now was a world away from before.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he eyed Harry right back as he scooped oatmeal into his mouth and Harry’s intense stare was almost indistinguishable from what it always was.  _Almost_. There was the slightest gleam to his eyes, the most subtle dip of his eyebrows that was obvious to Louis at least that it was a pantomime of his earlier behavior. As if he was playing along with the deal they had struck but he was amused by it.

He narrowed his eyes at Harry, putting his spoon in his mouth upside down in order to scrape the oatmeal off on his tongue.

“Do you remember how I’d always give you my leftover oatmeal?” He asked silkily.

Harry’s gaze dropped to Louis mouth, arching one of his brows; intrigued.

He swiftly scraped the last three spoonfulls into his mouth. God, that shit was fucking disgusting. He swallowed through his desire to gag. “Oh well. Look at that. None for you today.” He followed up acidly.

The corner of Harry’s mouth ticked up.

 

***

 

Group showers.

The thing people joke about prison probably most often out  _there_ , in the free world. Hell, how many times had Louis heard one of the guys in high school mock someone by saying  _don’t drop the soap._

In reality it was one of the safer places. Guards stood inside the room and everyone was obviously naked so there weren’t many opportunities to hide a weapon.

The worst thing you could say about them was the discomfort of someone eyeballing you. Which again, surprising to most people in the outside world, didn’t happen a lot. Everyone shuffled in, stood under the spray in front of them, washed their hair and body and were prepared to towel off right after. The water was lukewarm at best. And if it had been anyone’s prerogative to stay under the spray of water longer, it would quickly turn cold. No one in their right mind enjoyed showering under a spray of cold water.

Every once in a while you got a creeper that just didn’t give a fuck and would pull one off even with everyone standing around him. That only happened if they were far enough away from the guards, with tons of bodies obscuring their view. And it happened rarely.

There was nothing that skeeved him off more than to end up near someone like that, so Louis generally tried to stick near the front.

This was also the only place that Louis regretted his new deal with Harry. Even when he was turned away from him he could feel his gaze burning between his shoulder blades. He tried as much as he could to keep his back to him, but there were times he faced his direction and Louis tried to hold his eyes shut. Didn’t want to see Harry’s gaze travel over him. It was unavoidable that Louis’ own gaze had swept over Harry’s body a time or two. The pale skin with dark lines of ink scrawled over it. Knowing Harry’s background it piqued his curiosity. Made him want to know what inspired some of his tattoos.

His gaze settled for a beat or two on the laurel leaves right above the line of his hip. His glance skittered up to Harry’s only to find himself being watched and he twisted around to face the spray.

The worst part was that it was so goddamn familiar. It wasn’t like the disgust he felt when he noticed another inmate watching him. He was too accustomed to it from the first month and half when Harry’s eyes never left him. It unsettled him, but in a different way.

In a way that made his pulse beat a staccato rhythm in his veins and grit his teeth until he could get the hell out of there.

 

 ***

 

Louis should have known things weren’t over. He may have escaped unscathed in the day room because of Harry but if there’s one thing they all had in here it was time to plan. And settling scores was one of the prisoners’ favorite pastimes.

He was on his way past the laundry. Harry was on duty there and he didn’t trust that fuck Moranek. He’d taken to walking past here and there when it was Harry’s shift. Louis knew all too well how isolated that area was and a lot of shit could go down without anyone noticing.

He ducked his head silently in to make sure that everything was normal. The noise of rumbling dryers and spinning washers almost drowned out the sound of shoes behind him. He heard it though, the blood freezing in his veins before arms wrapped around him and pulled him roughly back.

Louis didn’t think, just reacted on pure instinct. His head whipped back, smashing into the face of whoever had him from behind. He heard a sick crunch and smiled briefly while he struggled with his arms trying to break free.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he found himself loose and he took off down the long hall.

“Get that motherfucker.”

Louis heard the words and recognized the voice right away as the guy asking about Sellick the other day.

A grunt was forced out of him as a body collided with his and sent him slamming into the wall to his left. His world exploded in pain as his head cracked against cement. He shook it, gritting through the agony, positive that he needed to clear his head and move or he would end up a dead man.

These guys did not fuck around. Louis knew that if he didn’t escape, he’d end up beaten to death on this floor. He blinked as much as he could, trying to clear the fuzziness surrounding his brain. It felt like soft cotton, as if he couldn’t grasp onto any thought too clearly.

A fist slammed right into his ear. Louis gasped as he fell to the floor. His attackers came into his vision but his body felt like it was in shock, the side of his head both burning and numb in different parts. He saw it before he felt a boot swing into his stomach doubling him over.

He started to laugh. He couldn’t help it. It was hysteria and the inevitability of all of this. His cheek pressed against the rough cold floor as he continued to laugh, the effort making his stomach burn with pain. The two guys stepped back. Louis wasn’t sure if it was in surprise at his reaction or by command of the asshole who was now stalking toward him.

The guy stepped right by him and his laughter died just before a boot struck him viciously right in his lower back. Searing pain raced up his spine, spidering out along his limbs. For several seconds his chest froze. His body wouldn’t cooperate with his desire to pull breath into his lungs. The next blow smashed down on his hip and that seemed to jump start his breathing again.

There wasn’t much of a wait though until he felt explosions of pain all the way up his back from slamming his boot into him, the final one smashing right into the back of his head. His consciousness slipped away into blackness for a few seconds. His head felt thick; swollen.

The other two stepped close and Louis closed his eyes. The next few moments felt like time had slowed, almost to a pause. His heartbeat thudded sluggishly at his temples, his throat, his wrists, his chest. His body feeling like one throbbing heartbeat, each thump measuring farther and farther between the next one. A heavy certainty engulfed him and he knew he was about to die.

These fucks were going to kick the living shit out of him until he was spitting blood because all his internal organs were ruptured. His face would turn black and blue from their violence, eyelids swelling shut until he couldn’t see a goddamn thing until his life eventually floated away from the agonizing pain into an inky black nothingness.

He wasn’t calm like books and movies made it seem. As if you slip into a peaceful acceptance of what was about to happen to you. Every atom of his body felt like it was burning and he wanted to lash out in rage. He wanted to scrape his nails against the cement floor and grip onto the living, even in this hell hole of all places.

Boots started to rain down on him and he curled his body up, wrapping his arms around his head for what little protection they would offer.

Everything happened in a blur, through the vague web of his faint consciousness. He just existed, for knew how long the blows continued to hit him. And then they lifted.

Slowly, barely conscious, Louis blinked his eyes within the cradle of his arms and achingly moved them bit by bit, eyes dragging over as a body fell down to the ground right next to him. He stared, uncomprehending as blood drained down the neck, pooling on the cement a foot from him.

He heard noises; soft grunts. His eyelashes fluttered and the images in front of him started to pierce the fog of his brain.

Harry was there. He was straddling a body with his fists pummeling into someone’s face non-stop, one then the other. Blood was spattering on his shirt, his face. The other one was trying to attack Harry while he kept smashing his fists in, but it didn’t do a goddamn thing.

And then suddenly he rounded on the guy attacking him. Arms and legs tangled as they struggled to the floor, Harry pressing him down and then he raised something in his fist. Louis watched, mesmerized as Harry’s arm arched swiftly down, stabbing whatever he had into his chest and he continued. Slicing it artfully down over and over again and it was the most beautiful thing Louis had ever seen in his life.

He’d never seen Harry’s eyes that dark and determined. The ferocity was breathtaking.

Without meaning to a soft moan escaped his mouth and it seemed to catch Harry by surprise. His gaze swung over to him and Louis held it with his own. His hair was hanging down, still tucked behind his ears, only a little disheveled. The sever swoop of his eyebrows accentuated the intensity of his eyes and nothing felt more welcome in that moment.

Every available inch of Louis skin began to burn hotter than before as the full level of pain came swooping in, but at the same time, staring at Harry, rubbing his fingertips against the rough cement, he’d never felt more alive.

 

***

 

Waking up the next morning was both the best and worst day of his life.

Every movement, no matter how small, made his entire body scream. He bit down on the inside of his cheeks as his hands fisted the sheets. His fringe was sticking uncomfortably to his forehead but he wasn’t about to move his arms to push it off. Hot tears slid down the sides of his face. It wasn’t out of any emotional reaction, but an involuntary response because he was in so much goddamn pain.

With as much energy as he could muster he pulled his mind away from the misery he was feeling because it really was one of the best days of his life.

He’d fucking woken up for one, which meant that he was  _alive_. The act of breathing in and out as he stared up at the metal bed frame above him didn’t seem as mundane as it might have on any other day. It felt like a miracle.

No. It wasn’t an act of god that had saved him. He contemplated the mattress above him and pictured Harry peacefully asleep up there. He tried to recall how he’d gotten back here. Vague memories of Harry hauling him into the laundry were all he could remember. His thoughts turned murky and elusive. Everything he’d felt toward Harry before had been so clear cut, but now things were a whole lot more complicated.

His mind replayed the events of yesterday, speeding through everything that had happened to him and then slowing down to a crystal clarity at the memory of Harry’s violence. The sheer brutality of it, the way his fists had pounded repeatedly into that guys face, completely oblivious to the blood spattering him. And even more so his breath caught as he recalled the way Harry had looked- graceful and ferocious- as he’d stabbed the other prisoner over and over again, his biceps bulging, muscles moving in tandem as he punched that knife down into the thick meat of his chest.

He closed his eyes tightly and curled his fingers into the bed. He should have been disgusted as he’d watched him, but he remembered finding him absolutely beautiful.

And he should be horrified today as he reflected back but he couldn’t find it in himself to dredge up any feelings of dismay. In fact he was at a loss to pinpoint exactly how he was feeling.

He’d never had anyone go to such extreme lengths for him before. Louis had been in a decent amount of dangerous situations. You didn’t become as good a thief as he was without constantly pushing yourself into more difficult circumstances. And he’d even worked with partners on quite a few jobs some of which ended up going south real fast but not a single one of them had ever looked out for him.

It was…foreign.

He was used to relying only on himself. What Harry had done for him- he had no words. Only an intense itch in the palms of his hands as warmth spread out from the back of his neck to flood his chest.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that Harry jumping down startled him and he clenched his teeth in pain. He walked over to piss and then came back toward the bed, crouching down.

“May I?”

Louis nodded and then braced himself for Harry crawling over his body. Sweat broke out as he tried moving over a bit to make room for him. His back in particular hurt so bad with the motion that nausea swept over him. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it.

Fingers glided over his forehead, sweeping his hair back off of it. The simple motion felt so goddamn good he wanted to shout with relief. Harry didn’t stop at that though as he began carding his fingers through his hair. Louis opened his eyes and shifted his face to the left so he could look at Harry, try to figure out what was going on in his head.

He was met by a clear, intent gaze. Louis figured the longer he looked at Harry, he would at some point turn away but he didn’t. So they lay there staring at each other in silence as Harry continued to run his fingers through his hair. It should have been awkward but it wasn’t. Louis was content to watch Harry while he watched him back.

After several minutes Louis did look away. He lifted his hands, hissing as he did so, and grabbed the one Harry had in his hair. He brought it in front of his face and examined it. From the fleshy part of his palm to the thick pads of his fingertips he couldn’t see a speck of blood. He pressed his thumbs into the center and rubbed them upward along each finger. It amazed him that this hand had taken three people’s lives in order to save his.

The uncomfortable heat that had flooded his chest earlier swelled again. It ran up his neck and slipped over his head as if an egg had been broken on top of it.

He chewed on his lips and narrowed his eyes at the intensity of the emotion flooding through him. He pressed his thumbs once again into the middle of Harry’s palm as if that alone could express the strength of what he was feeling.

“Thank you.” He uttered, voice hoarse and thick.

 

***

 

“Louis, what happened to you?”

The concern ringing in his mother’s voice grated on him.

When he had been notified that someone was there to see him on visiting day his mind had drawn a blank. If that wasn’t the perfect example of how little he mattered in this world he didn’t know what was. Couldn’t even fucking think of a single person he was close enough to that would make the trip to see him.

He’d been led into the room with an officer standing in the corner. Louis stood there stiffly as his mother enveloped him in a hug. It’s not that he didn’t care about her, he just didn’t know her that well. Seeing her made the familiar feelings of guilt rise up in him and he wondered who she had gotten to take care of the kids in order to make the visit. Closely on the heels of that thought came the question, why?

Why come after four fucking months? Only one thought came to his head and bitterness washed over him. As much as he’d enjoyed the feeling of being able to provide for his family financially, irrationally a part of him wished that the only reason she’d made this trip was to see  _him_. Her son. Louis squashed that thought immediately. He was the one who’d run away. He was the one who’d severed the ties between them.

One thought had always squirmed uncomfortably in his gut though. It had never left him. His mother clearly had always had a means to communicate with him. The fact that he had dropped an envelope of cash off at her back doorstep every week ensured that. But she had never once left a note, never once staked out, waiting to ambush when he snuck back there to leave it. As much as he was the one who left, that knowledge had always sat there like a rock in his stomach.

He ignored her question and the way her eyes swept frantically over the few bruises that had yet to fully heal.

“Are you out of money?” He asked, voice low and urgent. Louis flicked his eyes to the guard on the other side of the room.

Her eyes slid to the table and hesitated there before looking back up at him and nodded. The confirmation settled heavily on him and he wanted to press her hands flat to the table so she would stop twisting them nervously. It irritated him. He ran his hands through his fringe to occupy them.

Her eyes softened. “Your hair is getting long.” But as soon as the words were out they widened a fraction. “I mean- I guess maybe not.” She looked at him, a confused light entering her gaze. “I guess I don’t know if this is long for you.”

Louis lifted a stiff shoulder in acknowledgement. “It’s long.” He said, tone clipped. He glanced over at the guard again before leaning in. “I have some accounts that were never discovered.” His jaw tightened as he saw interest sharpen her features. “I used aliases, but two of them I did list you as joint owner on.”

“I can tell you the account numbers, but you are going to have to memorize them. You can’t write them down.” He warned. “It’s not a ton of money but it should get you through a little while longer.”

“How much longer are we talking?”

He saw the shame in her eyes as soon as she’d uttered the words.

She pressed her hands forward to lay over his on top of the table. “I’m sorry, baby, it’s just that you’re in here for thirteen years.” Her eyes searched his solemnly. “That’s a long time.”

No fucking shit it was a long time. Louis bristled at her words and pulled his hands back, running them casually over his recently shaven jawline before clenching them in his lap. He knew how cold his blue eyes could get when he was angry but he couldn’t really give a shit about shielding her from it.

“You’ll have to make do with what I can offer you.” His jaw ticked.

Chastised, she gave him a weak smile, hands running through her own hair nervously. “But I bet it will go by in no time, right? And then you can come home and get a real job.” Hope tinged her voice. “The little ones aren’t quite so little anymore but they’re almost more of a handful now than before. It would be nice to have your help.”

Her words felt like a rock on his chest. Picturing that future made dread prickle his skin. It’s not that he didn’t love his siblings, in a lot of ways he pictured an alternate universe where he was close with all of them; the perfect older brother. But his was a completely different world than that one. The way prison had changed him already, who knows who he’d even be thirteen years from now. Would he be safe to let loose in the world?

He wondered tightly what his mother would think of Harry. Would she be thankful for what he’d done for her son? What would her reaction be if he told her that eleven days ago Harry had viciously taken the lives of three people in order to protect him? Every time he thought about it a shiver slithered down his spine.

His silence seemed to have dissolved the future she had been envisioning. She looked around the room in dismay, struggled to come up with something else to say. It figured, he thought acidly. She’d gotten an answer for what she’d really come to find out; if there was more money. And now she was stuck making small talk until he gave her the account numbers.

He was just about to end this charade when her eyes settled on his again. “Have you made any friends in here?”

Louis snorted. It had to be one of the most ridiculous questions he’d ever heard. And yet his mind immediately landed on Harry before rejecting the idea. Friends; they definitely weren’t. His mind searched to categorize what they were but he found that doing so was like jumping down the rabbit hole into a world where nothing was what it seemed.

A thought broke through that Harry would never experience this- his mother visiting him. A sliver of rage washed through him for the woman and he glanced into his mother’s eyes, a bit of the coldness he felt toward her yielding. What would it hurt to throw her a little make believe? She didn’t need to know of the brutality that went on in here.

“Yes, I have actually.” He offered her a small smile.

“What’s his name?”

Louis scraped his nail against the table top as he answered. “Harry.”

“So you two get along?” She raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to say more.

Louis squinted at the wall past her for a moment or two as one corner of his mouth drew up in grim amusement. “Not at first, no.”  It felt like a gross understatement. “But lately.” He hesitated- realized he was taking her question more seriously than he’d intended. “Lately things have changed.”

He gave her nothing more. Not really wanting to continue on that line of thought. It was too fresh. There were too many tangled feelings that he did not have the desire to sort out, so he left them there inside him.

Her lips pressed together before she inquired, face serious. “Is he taking care of you in here?”

He blinked a few times, teeth scraping his bottom lip. Those feelings he liked to ignore swelled in his chest and the intense pressure overwhelmed him. “Yes.” He replied, voice weighted with memory.

He shook his head a few times and leaned in again. “I better tell you those numbers before I forget.”

He wouldn’t forget, but he wanted to wrap this up. He was done with this masquerade.

 

***

 

Fifteen days had passed since the fight and each and every night Harry climbed into bed with him. He could think of a thousand ways in which the presumptuousness of that would have irritated the shit out of him a month ago. But every night annoyance was nowhere to be found as Harry pulled him back against him, an arm slung over his side, his hand splayed lightly over his stomach.

He had even tried the first few nights to dredge up outrage at the possessive gesture, but his mind was suspiciously silent on the matter. In fact, the distraction of it was almost welcome in order to pull his attention away from the constant ache of his body. It was frustrating to accept how long he was taking to recover.

Sometimes the span of Harry’s fingers brought his pinky to graze the low slung edge of his pants. It laid over the soft brown hair below his belly button, the tip just skimming over hair that was a bit more course. He’d strained his senses to check if Harry was doing this on purpose, but the soft even breaths behind him indicated that he was asleep. Those nights it was the hardest for him to drag himself to sleep. All it would take is one swift scoop of his hips to slide Harry’s hand below the band, but that's not what kept him awake. It was the fact that a dangerous part of him  _wanted_  to.

There were also a few nights in which Harry’s face was close enough that his nose nudged against the back curve of his jaw, in the dip right beneath his ear. Louis would find himself tensing, resisting the natural urge to press more deeply against the body behind him. It was a strange and unsettling new feeling to know that he wanted to push his head back in order to nuzzle Harry’s face further into his neck.

He found a lot of things unsettling lately.

The way Harry pressed into his back during the line for chow, sometimes with one or both hands curved around his hips. The new glint in his gaze as he watched him while he ate, while he showered, while he stood next to him. It no longer had the amused tone to it that he’d had when he’d agreed to the deal. It was no longer a mime of his earlier stares. Now, there was an  _intent_  there that Louis couldn’t blind himself to. Harry’s unflinching focus was back on him, but without the contempt that Louis had once harbored it had a different effect altogether.

 

***

 

The minute Louis strode lazily in the dayroom all his senses were on alert. There were only five inmates in there, three of them were sitting on the couch watching TV. Harry was leaning against the wall over in the left corner, body language relaxed and unconcerned as that muscly fuck, Maronek, stood over him. He was once again staring out to his left, face expressionless, as if he didn’t have Maronek spitting crude things into his personal space.

Louis could hear him from here. He should just twist right around walk back out, nearly three weeks after the fight and he was almost fully recovered but not quite. He knew that Harry could handle himself but  _the shit_  that he was saying to him. It riled Louis like you wouldn’t believe. Even the prisoners watching TV were glancing over on and off, listening to what was going on. He ran his fingers through his fringe, thinking fast about what he was going to do. He realized he couldn’t just let Maronek keep putting his hands on him. There was just this itch- made Louis’ fingers twitch. He wanted to rip his fucking hands off of Harry. He moved toward them with purpose.

“Harry.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you.”

The green eyes that turned toward him flashed hot for a brief second before they switched back to the emptiness they were before. Louis’ mouth tipped down trying to hide his confusion. He tore his eyes away and glanced at Maronek. “Why don’t you get the fuck out of here? Bet Crow is out there somewhere just waiting to bend over for you.”

Satisfaction spread through him at seeing his face turn red with rage.

After the number of altercations he’d gotten into weeks ago, he’d been trying especially hard to stay under the radar along with Harry. But Maronek just didn’t seem to want to leave Harry alone and he was fucking done with it. He needed to make this as plain as possible.

He slipped his shoulder under Harry’s, leaning into his side and slid an arm around to grip tightly to Harry’s other hip. “You aren’t wanted here.” He said each word succinctly. “So why don’t you take your hideous dick over to someone who does.”

His skin burned with the weight of Harry’s gaze on the side of his face.

“You’re such a dumb shit, Tomlinson.”  Maronek ground out, clearly enraged. He turned back to Harry, and pressed his face up to the side of his head before whispering viciously. “Your ass is mine, Styles.”

Then he pushed into Louis’ space, putting his ugly fucking face right up next to his. “And you. If you ever try to come between Styles and me again, you won’t goddamn live to regret.”

“Looking to add years onto your sentence with my death, Maronek?” He jabbed, feeling spiteful and not able to shove down the ugliness boiling in him even if his good sense told him it was dangerous.

“I’m in here for life already.” He grinned back coldly.

“The death penalty then.” Louis tipped his chin up in challenge, not backing down.

“You think this is my first rodeo?” Maronek spat down at the ground right next to Louis, then stepped even closer, bodies almost touching. He bent down far enough for Louis to smell the rank stench of his breath. “I could attack you in just the right way that even with a little piece of shit like you they would believe it was self-defense. Would add to my sentence but they’d never go for the death penalty. Guess you can’t really scare me away with that.”

He glanced at Harry and then back at him. “So stay the fuck out of this.”

After that final warning Maronek left the room, the three prisoners on the couch brought their attention back to the TV. Louis let a breath out.

The next thing he knew Harry pushed him roughly against the wall, forearm painful against his throat, holding him there. His breath hitched, body instantly responding. Harry’s green eyes bored intensely into his.

“Louis.”

There was a grim depth to his tone. Harry pressed a little harder on his throat, choking his air off for a second.

“What are you doing.” Harry quietly commanded.

He still hadn’t let up enough on Louis’ throat so that he could speak. Harry leaned in until their lips were a breadth away from one another, cocking his head slightly. His beautiful fucking eyes narrowed at Louis, “I can handle things on my own.”

He finally let go of his throat and Louis swallowed several times while he massaged a hand around his neck.

“I know.” Louis agreed. “But you can’t keep ‘handling’ things the way you have been. Eventually you’re gonna get caught.” He added savagely.

“No, I won’t.” Harry replied implacably.

“And what if he found you when you were lost in that fucking head of yours?” Louis spat out angrily, tapping his finger against Harry’s temple.

 He knew he’d hit a nerve with that one when Harry flinched. He could be such an ungrateful fuck that Louis wanted punch him. He had to remind himself that Harry wasn’t used to anyone looking out for him. Some of the anger drained away.

“I’m not going to stop interfering.” Louis warned him. “So get fucking used to it.”

Harry’s jaws tightened but he didn’t say anything in response.

 

***

 

Pretty much the only normal aspect to Louis life was his job in Borland’s office. Apparently he’d gained enough trust in the position that all of his normal office supplies had been returned.

It was no small matter of pride to Louis. He had never expected that he would do anything to jeopardize his position there, but as he typed up Borland’s notes his eyes traveled to the letter opener sitting in the mug of pencils and pens no less than five times. He dragged his attention back to the computer once again.

It was so tempting though.

There were too many reasons to want to take it. He needed some sort of weapon. He never wanted to be put in a position again where he wasn’t prepared. It hit him that what he was talking about was murder.

He literally wanted to prep himself in the event he needed to take someone else’s life.

The idea of that should have sickened him. But his resolve only strengthened. He pushed the keyboard away from him with a huff of breath. He’d made up his mind. But he wasn’t stupid enough to take that letter opener. It would be too obvious.

He eyed up the other items on the desk. He could easily take a pen or pencil and it would probably go unnoticed. But in terms of damage he didn’t see those doing much for him. He opened the drawers hoping to find something more promising but to no avail.

He sighed and went back to typing.

The guard had come and gone two or three times when Louis’ eyes landed on a three tiered plexiglas document organizer at the corner of the desk. Nothing about it screamed weapon to the naked eye. But Louis had formed an idea.

After debating with himself for about forty-five minutes he stepped around the desk and pulled the papers out. He reviewed them and was pleased to see that they were reference materials. Items that he suspected probably didn’t get pulled out a whole lot. He grabbed the pliers he’d found in the bottom right drawer and squeezed the middle divider between their jaws. It took some muscle to pull it sideways and he was half afraid the plexiglas would bend instead of breaking, but then he felt the satisfying snap of a chunk release from it.

It was good size piece, maybe six inches long and triangular. The longest point of it looked deadly. He placed the papers back into the three different tiers and smiled when they easily hid the missing chunk. He slipped the plastic into the band of his pants and relaxed back into the chair.

 

***

 

Harry was back on laundry duty.

Despite every part of him wanting to stay put in his cell he knew he needed to go check on him. Maronek had been too persistent for Louis to assume he wouldn’t go there to harass him. His body trembled as he walked down the hall toward the sound of washers and dryers. His reaction enraged him. He hated the idea of something having a hold on him like that. But try as he might he could not prevent the memories from flooding him, turning him into a raw bundle of nerves.

As he drew closer he heard faint voices through the doorway. He doubted Harry was chatting with whoever else was on shift with him. One person was normally stationed by the dryers, tasked with reloading and folding while the other was in charge of sorting and loading the washers. Guards would walk through at timed intervals but no one was stationed there, making it a prime spot for sordid things to take place.

He walked quietly up to the door and pulled it silently open.

Crow had Harry pressed up against the side of one of the giant washers. He was whispering into his ear and palming his dick. The blank gaze on Harry’s face suggested that he intended to get through whatever Crow was there for without breaking character.

Louis’ vision went red. “What the fuck is this?”

Crow turned around, startled. As soon as he saw Louis, he smiled in that disgusting way of his, as if his fortune had just gotten better.

“Harry and I are having a little cozy time together.” He palmed Harry more roughly, eyes eating up Louis’ reaction.

Every muscle in his body tensed further. He crushed his hands into tight fists, pinning Crow with his glacial stare. “Get the fuck off of him.”

Crow cocked his head in amusement, like this was fucking joke to him. “Aww, but Harry and I were having so much fun.”

Louis’ gaze stayed on Crow but he noticed Harry’s jaw tighten in anger at the edge of his vision and his caution was drowned out by the drum of his blood beating at his temples. He darted forward and had Crow pushed violently into the washers before he could even blink. His hands squeezed around his throat. He’d never used that much force in his entire life and his biceps burned with the effort.

His words punctured the air in front of his face viciously. “I said get your goddamn hands off him.”

Crow’s face was turning a lovely shade of red and then transitioning into purple as he struggled against his ruthless grip. Louis finally released his hands and he fell to the floor coughing and wheezing breaths in.

“Get the fuck out of here.” He spat. “ _Now_.”

Crow rubbed his neck with his hands and turned venomous eyes on him before he scrambled up and ran out.

He turned back to Harry and his breath caught in his throat. Harry’s eyes were wide and fierce, his chest rising and falling quickly, mouth fallen open. Adrenaline still thundered through his own veins and they stood like that; transfixed.

Louis didn’t know where the other inmate was on shift in the laundry with him, the drone of the washers and dryers didn’t even pierce his awareness because everything in his world had narrowed down to Harry’s presence in front of him. The flare of his nostrils, the thumping of Harry’s pulse in his neck, how tightly clenched his fists were.

Louis stepped toward him. He still didn’t so much as touch him, both of their bodies existing within a span of two inches. He nearly had to close his eyes because the intensity of Harry’s gaze was threatening to consume him.

It felt like each breath he pulled through his lungs was a fight, every sense was bombarding him all at once with the sound of Harry’s harsh breathing, the warmth of his body so close by, the heat of his gaze. Harry dipped his head slowly, so goddamn slowly until his lips grazed Louis’ mouth, his nose nudging the side of his. Louis pulse thumped louder and louder in his head, deafening him as Harry pressed that little bit further.

Like a flame snicking a fuse, the slide of Harry’s tongue between his lips finally set them into motion. Louis moaned and burst forward, pushing Harry into the back of the washer behind him. He opened wider, trying to encourage him to fuck his mouth with the long deep swipes of his tongue that he was doing now. Jesus, it reminded him so sharply of the feel of Harry’s cock deep inside him that he completely lost his breath for a moment.

Little fissures of heat flooded his body as Harry grabbed onto his hips like a vise and flipped them around. He felt rough hands shove at his pants and briefs, pushing them down and Louis broke away long enough to step out of them- taking a moment to stare while Harry pushed down his own. He had long creamy, pale legs that lead up to bush of dark hair around his long, thick cock. Louis sucked in a breath, a little fuzzy on it being that big.

“Jesus. You better work me open first before you stick that big goddman thing in me.”

A trace of a smile flittered over Harry’s mouth before it disappeared and he pressed Louis back up against the washers. Louis allowed him to push his fingers into his mouth letting all the slick spit he had coat his fingers liberally.

Louis appreciated Harry diving his tongue back into his mouth, letting the tangle of their mouths distract him from the press of Harry’s fingers behind him. Goddamn but the spit wasn’t like oil. A pained noise rose up his throat as Harry added a second finger much sooner than Louis expected. He gripped him around the neck and wrapped his legs around him. Harry quickly used his other arm to support him and pushed him even harder against the washers.

It was uncomfortable as fuck, but Louis was now going out of his mind at the tight press of their cocks against each other, nudging their hips in a rhythm. It was fucking good. It even made him appreciate the fingers pressed into his ass, Harry’s hand curved into him and working him in a lovely counterpart to the slip of their dicks against each other.

The pressure of a third finger burned through him and quickly after that a fourth. Louis ripped his mouth away, reaching back with one hand to grip tightly to the top edge of the washer. “ _Fuck_.” He bit deeply into his bottom lip to distract him from the discomfort in his ass.

Several breaths stuttered through him. “Goddamn it. “ He winced. “Just fucking get in there before I change my fucking mind.”

He actually laughed when Harry immediately pulled his fingers out, grabbing his dick and nuzzling it right at his entrance. He braced himself for the pressure but it didn’t come, instead he felt the continuous slippery swipe of Harry’s head at his hole. He opened his eyes and caught Harry’s gaze, deep lines of concentration written between his brows. The sensation left him breathless. The rub of his wide head snagging at it over and over again. It made him press down, wanting to push some of the sticky wetness on Harry’s cockhead inside of him.

It was an agonizing minute as Harry slowly snugged himself up inside him, his girth splitting Louis open. The slide had been a little easier than he had expected, figured when they’d rubbed their dicks together lots of precum had mingled to coat him.

“Grab the edge above you with both hands.” Harry commanded.

Louis did as he was told, gasping in surprise when Harry followed him, both arms crooked under Louis’ legs as he pushed them upward, his hands gripping to the edge on the outside of each of his. He was quite literally folded up like a pretzel between Harry and the washer.

Then Harry started to move, small little shifts of his hips, darting in and out in small increments. The pain was easing and the tightened space for Louis’ cock had it fattening up further.

Louis mouth was dry, spellbound by the way he and Harry were holding each other’s gaze while he fucked in and out of him, his cock slipping out a little more each time and jerking upward. Harry leaned in and Louis eagerly accepted his tongue into his mouth. It continued like that, Harry’s diving into Louis’ mouth in between them breaking apart. Staring, always staring. It was almost alarming having that much eye contact. Vulnerable to have someone watch you unravel. Harry hit just the right spot inside him and Louis dragged his mouth back to his.

“Jesus Christ. Right there, Harry. Right fucking there don’t you dare stop.” He cried against his lips.

Harry’s hips sped up, less and less of his cock visible as he pulled out on each thrust because he was jackrabbiting into him so fast. His accuracy was fucking admirable as he rubbed mercilessly over his spot. Everything spiraling inside of him.

“Are you gonna come?” Harry leaned in and breathed into his mouth. The words were quiet but with a sharp edge to them. Louis nearly went mad when Harry’s tongue dipped out to swipe at his open mouth a couple times, pulling back in every time that Louis tried to chase it. He growled in frustration.

“You gonna come?” Harry asked again, this time desperation leaking into his deep tone. All Louis could do was whimper, nudging his nose against Harry’s

“Yeah.” He felt like he was being pressed in at all sides, the delicious pressure of Harry inside of him, the tight heat of his cock trapped between their stomachs.

His hands tightened painfully on the edge as trails of fire licked throughout his entire body, becoming more and more intense until he combusted from the inside. He covered Harry’s mouth with his, groaning long a deep as the heat of his come slicked between them. Harry thrust upward roughly and with a loud grunt into his mouth, Louis felt the pulse of him inside. Muted kisses between them punctuated the journey of Harry’s hands as they slid down the face of the washer. His legs lowered with him and Louis weakly wrapped them around his hips, arms coming down to grasp shoulders.

They stood like that, Louis curved around his body and Harry holding him up despite the heavy content that weighed both of them down. Harry was still inside him and despite the minor stinging, Louis didn’t have the energy to move. There was a damp heat to the air from the washers and dryers and it only cocooned them further.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt more like the space needed to allow the thunder of their heartbeats to calm and the heat from their blood to cool. They stared at one another, panting lightly as they caught their breath.

“The way I’ll be walking out of here, they definitely won’t have any doubts now.” He raised his eyebrows in order to emphasize his point.

Rather than a smirk like he was expecting, Harry’s face was dead serious, eyes suddenly burning into his. Louis felt Harry’s grip tighten possessively on his ass as he pressed him back into the washer behind him. Harry’s hips nudged upward and his half hard cock rubbed against the tender skin of his hole. A hiss escaped him, heart beating harder again.

“You’re mine.” Harry’s quiet voice held just as much conviction as his gaze.

Louis’ curled his fist into Harry’s hair and tightened it painfully. “I know.”

 

 ***

 

Louis couldn’t ever recall having said the words  _I love you_  to anyone before. He’s certain he’s said them to his mom when he was a little boy. But it had been in the way little kids do it. A reflex. Not really knowing what they’re saying. For as long as he’s known what the words meant, there has never been anyone he’s wanted to say them to.

He watched Harry surreptitiously as they stood in line for morning chow. Normally Harry would be staring right back at him, but for the moment he wasn’t, he was grabbing a bowl of oatmeal from the person behind the counter. He offered the guy a small smile and a thank you and it struck him all over again what a study in opposites he was.

As soon as he turned away from the counter guy, Harry’s eyes fastened on him. A tiny inaudible breath escaped his throat and it was like he knew it was coming, was waiting for his eyes to return to where they belonged.

He wasn’t sure what it felt like to want to say I love you, but there was something about that moment that gave him the smallest urge to. His stomach seized up, suddenly feeling like one solid rock. Louis was stuck, immovable, gaze frozen on Harry.

Harry’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit and he read the question in them.

“Come’on let’s keep it moving here.”

Louis felt a nudge at his shoulder from the prisoner behind him.

He subtly shook his head at Harry, hoping that it conveyed  _It’s nothing, everything’s fine_. The guy behind the counter plopped a bowl of oatmeal in his hands when he reached out and he looked down at it in disgust.

Nothing was different when they sat down and yet everything felt different. The slow movement of Harry pressing close to his side. The weight of Harry’s gaze that he found himself returning. There was a depth to every motion, every look, that sunk into his skin, making him push his hip tighter into him. Harry’s nostrils flared and Louis pressed the heel of his palm into his lap, trying to discourage his dick.

Jesus, he needed to get a hold on himself. Who knew how many eyes were on them and how much they could see. He looked down at his oatmeal and scooped up one obligatory bite. When he glanced up and casually surveyed their audience he was looking for only one set of eyes. He knew they’d be on them.

Maronek’s.

His face was impassive but he could see the vein straining his neck.

A smirk curved Louis’ mouth and he pushed himself further into Harry’s space. In a matter of seconds Maronek was up and slamming his fists down on their table.

“You little piece of shit.” Maronek spat.

“Hey.” Two guards came toward them. “You need to step back, inmate.”

Maronek leaned further into the table and whispered. “Just you wait.”

“Prisoner! Go back to your table.”

If looks could kill Louis would definitely be dead right now. The hate pouring from Maronek was palpable and he could feel the undercurrent of excitement in the prisoners watching this spectacle.

Maronek growled before giving the guards the finger and going back to his table.

When Louis swung his gaze back to Harry’s he could see the shuttered fury in it. He leaned forward, a deadly calm voice in Louis’ ear. “I told you I can take care of this.”

The words set his teeth on edge. He captured Harry’s gaze again, eyes burning like frostbite. “You’re mine too, you know.”

He saw it the moment Harry connected those with their words from the day before. He blinked several times and then his expression completely closed, his eyes turning empty and unreachable. Louis wanted to grip his shoulders and shake him until he rattled his stupid fucking head right off his shoulders. It had felt like the most significant thing he’d said to anyone. Ever.

“Here’s my oatmeal.” He shoved it in front of him.

Neither of them touched the food for the rest of breakfast, but Harry’s hollow stare never left him.

 

***

 

The rhythmic snipping noise of the scissors was comforting. Louis was quite pleased that a week ago he’d signed up for a haircut today of all days. It was a welcome respite from his frustration over the events at breakfast. Sitting in the chair was uncomfortable as fuck from the fire in his ass but other than that it was relaxing.

He closed his eyes and made his mind go blank while the inmate slid the comb against his scalp and snipped.

He was also effectively ignoring the blazing stare of Maronek through the mirror on the opposite side of the room as him. When he had first walked in, his eyes had drifted down to note that Maronek had not been cuffed to the chair as some high risk prisoners were. He’d been surprised, considering he was so openly aggressive. You’d think they’d show a little bit more fucking concern?

“Do you want it shorter?”

The words disrupted his thoughts and he opened his eyes to look in the mirror. He was actually satisfied with the work. There were a lot of talented inmates in here, like you could tell they had clearly done this kind of work outside of prison. And just like laundry and kitchen work and various other duties, they were allowed to cut the other prisoners hair. Months ago, Louis had wondered how they ever trusted scissors in the hands of inmates, but now he knew better.  Most prisoners didn’t want to fuck up their privileges. And Louis felt the same way about his job in the office. Work, any kind of work that takes you away from the mindless existence of wandering around prison is not something you want taken away from you.

“Just a little from the back and then we’re all good.” Louis gave the guy a tight smile. His eyes wandered back over to Maronek’s in the mirror. The inmate behind him was now shaving his head. Louis’ pulse definitely picked up to see that he was so close to a razor blade.

The stars were aligned to apparently fuck Louis over because just as he was getting the cape removed from around him so was Maronek. They stood up at the same time and Louis couldn’t help the sweat that broke out under his pits. Everything seemed specifically coordinated. Jesus.

He stalled by asking the inmate if he could sign up for his next appointment right away, giving Maronek time to walk out of the room ahead of him because he sure as fuck didn’t want him following him out. It didn’t do exactly what he’d been hoping because now the guy was turned away, shuffling through some papers and he couldn’t stop staring at Maronek, eyes scanning for any sudden movements.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Maronek directed the question at him.

Louis glanced at the other guys in the room and saw a few sympathetic faces. He shifted on his feet and pointed a thumb behind him, “He’s just grabbing the logs for me.”

Maronek advanced on him and Louis calmly backed up a step, lower back pressing against the edge of a table behind him. “Is there something you needed from me?”

Maronek balled his hands into fists and Louis watched him push even further into his space. He couldn’t back up any further so he ended up leaning slightly back over the table. “You’re a dumb motherfucker, Tomlinson. You can put your name on that list, but it don’t mean you’ll live to see it.” He threatened.

He blinked several times and moved his glance to the floor. The overwhelming hate in his gaze was too much. He was beginning to think there was an invisible target on him that invited prisoners to take their aggression out on him.

The inmate next to him ruffled some papers and coughed. “I found the sign up logs for you. And I think I hear the guards coming down to check in.”

Louis strained to hear out in the hallway and the guy was actually telling the truth. Maronek’s eyes flicked to the other inmate and he stepped back.

As he walked out, Louis felt the tension drain out of the room at large.

He sighed and grabbed the pages, looked over the dates he could choose from. Four weeks out he saw Harry’s name on the list. The idea of him getting a haircut didn’t sit right with him. When no one was looking he scribbled his name out and added his own on that line. Harry had made enough decisions in the past without Louis say. This was minor in comparison. And the petty part of him that was still pissed by Harry’s reaction this morning rejoiced.

 

***

 

When he’d gone to check in on Harry for his last shift of laundry duty all things considered he had not expected to find his vison engulfed by damp fabric pressed over his face. The cloistering feel of it smashed against his nose and lips shot panic through him. His arms flew out on instinct, swallowing up empty air even though he knew his attacker was behind him.

Correction. Knew that Maronek was behind him because he’d recognize that fuck’s course laughter anywhere. He scrabbled at his neck, fingers scraping uselessly at the fabric that was biting into his skin. It just kept squeezing and squeezing and Louis knew that he was going to be strangled before he even had the opportunity to be suffocated.

He tried twisting his body around, struggling as much as he could to give himself some leeway with the choking feel of the fabric around his throat. Then he felt himself lifted, feet swishing helplessly in the air as gravity pressed down on him. But it was nothing in comparison to the pressure around his neck. It was relentless and unyielding.

His muscles started to feel weak, his head felt thick and large, larger than normal, like the force of his brain was trying to push through his skull.

The vague noise of shouting pierced through his consciousness and even that blurred away.

A pulse beat in his ear, the thump of it so loud that it was all he could focus on as it slowed more and more until he stopped hearing anything. He weakly tried to bring his hands up, but they stopped halfway up his body, stiff and too heavy to move any further.

Louis couldn’t remember where he was. Only the sensation of floating. Was he on a ride at the amusement park? He hadn’t gone to one of those since he- Louis’ thought broke off and he just didn’t think. Just existed in a white cloud where all the noise had been sucked out of. The only things that he felt was a burning pain somewhere and the knowledge that he needed something.

The slam of something pulled him from the soft, airless cocoon and he coughed, hands coming to his throat. Lucid thought hit him and he realized who he was, that he was in the laundry and the thing that had slammed into him had been the floor. Or more accurately he had been thrown onto the floor. He rolled over just as Maronek curved over his body and spit right in his face.

Louis flinched as it hit him in the eye, barely registering the intense agony that the movement had done to his neck. Noise was back full boom and even though he couldn’t hear Harry’s voice he’d seen him like a flash as he’d rolled over. Could hear him struggling against people and knew he was trying to come after them. He was thankful that whoever was there, was holding him back.

A lot of things happened at once, another gob of spit hit him in the cheek, Maronek’s hands wrapped around his neck once again, and Louis shoved his hand up to punch him in the stomach. The action felt feeble and inadequate. He had so little strength that even the act of pushing his fist into him gave him resistance. But he did it again and again with as much power as he could muster.

It was laughable really.

But then Maronek’s eyes got wide. Louis watched as rage burned through the face in front of him so fiercely that his eyes bugged out and the pressure of hands around his neck increased again. Louis couldn’t breathe, didn’t know how long he stared up at that asshole’s face with his lungs burning, unable to pull a goddamn breath in.

All at once the pressure on his neck lessened and he wheezed air into his body even though it made his throat feel like it was on fire. It was then that he felt something warm and sticky all over the hand that he'd been pushing into him. Maronek’s body fell over his, crushing him under the weight of it. He laid there for what felt like eternity, the intense pressure of Maronek's lifeless body flattening him.

And then the burden lifted and Harry’s face was above him. He glanced down at his own hand covered in garish bright red liquid. He blinked several times. Blood. Thoughts started to rush through his head at a faster pace and that’s when he felt the piece of plexiglas that his fingers were clutched around. Harry pulled Louis’ shoulders roughly up and grabbed his hand, the one covered in blood and pressed it to his cheek, closing his eyes. He watched, spellbound and breathless, as Harry slowly slid Louis’ hand down to curve around his own neck, smearing blood along the way. He could feel the frantic pounding of Harry’s pulse as he held his hand there. Harry’s eyes fluttered open, the dark green drilling into him.

Louis felt as though he might suffocate in a completely different way as Harry’s gaze blazed through him, scoring his insides like a brand.

“You’re mine.” Harry voiced, deep and guttural.

Louis slid his hand up to the hair behind Harry’s ear and his other one came up to rest on the other side as he tangled his fingers tightly in. He pushed his head forward until they’re foreheads were pressed together and closed his eyes.

“You’re mine.” He whispered hoarsely.

 

***

 

The ticking of a clock was the only noise that Louis heard as he sat in Dr. Borland’s office.

They both watched one another, Borland behind his desk and Louis in the chair in front of it. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had been summoned here. The only thing that he could think was that Borland was letting him go. That due to the Maronek thing he wouldn’t be allowed to work in his office anymore. But he’d been sitting in this fucking uncomfortable chair for three minutes now and Borland hadn’t uttered a word. He was just staring at Louis in a speculating way.

“It’s funny.” Borland announced as he squinted, deep in thought.

Louis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Clearly he was expected to ask what was so funny.

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Your haircut.”

Now he was really lost. What the fuck was the doc talking about?

“My haircut is funny.” Louis stated.

Borland rubbed his fingers over his mouth, a curve of wry amusement behind them. “No.” He wagged his index finger at him as he straightened in his chair, leaning forward. “The day and time you signed up for your haircut.” He paused. “That’s what’s funny.”

Louis bristled on the inside, wanted desperately to grind his teeth, but instead he folded a knee over the other leg, linking his fingers loosely together to show how unruffled he was.

“You get that much of a kick over haircuts?”

The doctor narrowed his gaze, more serious now even though there was still a wisp of amusement lurking in his face. “You see, Louis, when a crime happens in this prison, I am asked to oversee the details and I’m expected to council the parties involved in the event any psychological issues are at hand. And when I looked over the witness reports leading up to the attack I found something curious.”

Louis sighed heavily and scrubbed his hands against his face. Borland was toying with him right now and it was getting old. Christ. “What are you getting at?” He bit out in irritation.

“Let’s start with your motive for murder.” Borland leaned back again in his chair and paused for dramatic affect. “A life-sentence.”

Louis kept his face carefully blank.

“Maronek had been bothering Harry ever since he got here. And at some point, I’m not sure how, you discovered that you could kill a man out of self-defense in prison and you wouldn’t get the death penalty.” He stopped and waited as if he was expecting Louis to confirm his suspicions.   When nothing was forthcoming he continued. “We have two witness accounts of Maronek threatening you. One in the day room and again during chow in front of the prison population. I normally would not have thought anything of these.  _Until_  the haircut.” His eyes sharpened with a glint of self-satisfaction. “I saw the log of sign-ups for each day and there Maronek’s name was right above yours. Maybe if it had been five or so above your name I could have shrugged it off as you not seeing it, but you signed your name up right under his, fully aware of what you were doing.”

“If someone, who is twice the size of you, threatens you on at least two different occasions that he is going to kill you, you don’t sign up to be in the same room as him when there are easily accessible scissors and razors.”

Louis pressed his lips together and tried to picture how much Borland had been fucking looking forward to saying all this shit.

“Unless you  _want_  to be seen with him, you want to goad him into going off on you so that his threats are in everyone’s memory.” Borland tapped the side of his head for emphasis. “The account at the barbers was different than the other two in that you cowered away from him. You played weak. And I know you, Louis. You are the one that taunts. That incites things. You don’t cower away.”

Louis sniffed and drummed his fingers on his pants.

“You wanted people to think you were a victim so that when it came down to it and he attacked you like you  _wanted_  him to, you could kill him and no one would question whether it was self-defense or not.”

Louis refused to look at Borland. He’d admit he was a little shaken by the fact that he had put so many things together, but he ignored it. Would never admit to anything if the doctor pushed. He scraped his thumbnail against his pants with his eyes glued to the same spot. “You think I wanted a life sentence?”

“Yes, because you are in love with Harry Styles.”

Louis’ gaze flashed upward at the quiet assurance in the doctors words. Phantom pains spread along the skin around his neck. Memories of blood smearing the column of Harry’s throat filled his mind. 

“We’ve never used those words.” It was the closest thing to a denial that Louis could think of.

“Sometimes people say it in different ways.” The doctor replied evenly. He was watching Louis, eyes sharp on him and he looked away. A long silence filled the room as Louis tried to grapple with his words.

“Does Harry know?” Borland asked quietly. “That you did this for him?”

Louis’ whole body felt stiff. He stretched his shoulders and rearranged himself in the chair, using the distraction to push away the emotion that had suddenly overwhelmed him. He ran his tongue over his teeth and pressed his lips together, eyes boring into Borland’s.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The doctor sighed and shook his head at himself as if he should’ve known Louis wouldn’t answer that. He looked at Louis once again.

“Does Harry know the lengths that you would go for him?”

He had rephrased the question to be just vague enough that Louis could answer. He looked down in his lap at his hands clenched together there and then glanced back up. “No.” His blue eyes hardened. “And he doesn’t need to know.”

He looked past the doctor to stare out at nothing. “He needs someone to protect him too. He’s never had that in his whole fucking life.”

“And how do you know that?” Borland asks, tone wary.

Louis was caught off guard by the question. He hadn’t even meant to say what he did. Something flashed in his expression before he could cover over it and Borland glanced over at his filing cabinet. The doctor coughed to clear his throat.

“I told you all of this for a reason.” He speared Louis with his gaze. “I was able to convince the Warden to keep you in this position as long as you understand a few things. And these things are between you and I.” He emphasized severely. “Nothing like what happened to Maronek will ever happen again. You will not touch that filing cabinet ever again. And you will not do anything like this.” He tapped the plexiglas holder on his desk. “ _Ever again_. Understood?”

Louis stared at Borland, incapable of speech. The chance he was being given. It didn’t fucking make sense. Why would Borland do that for him? His throat hurt as he tried to swallow through the emotion that was freezing his ability to talk.

He ran his hands through his hair. Shook his head until it settled back over his forehead to cover one of his eyes. He looked up at him under the safety of his fringe.

“I don’t know what you are referring to.” He prefaced in order to deny anything Borland was saying. “But yeah,” he continued, voice soft. “I understand.”

 

***

 

“Do you ever think about life outside?” Louis asked as they both settled onto his mattress.

Harry’s flinch almost went undetected but Louis saw it and bit down lightly on his tongue, wishing he could take the question back. He could be such a thoughtless prick sometimes.

“No.” Harry said. His voice was clipped and low in the quiet that came after the count. Echoes of coughs and various other noises blended with the scuff of the guards boots as they walked the floors.

Louis closed his eyes, remorse filling his voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked you that.”

He felt Harry squeeze his arm and he opened his eyes, looking over at him. “It’s okay. Asking me that isn’t going to make me-” he waved a hand by his head and Louis knew what he meant. He nodded and Harry’s gaze settled more intensely on him. “You’re in here for life.”

It felt to Louis more like a question than a statement. He held Harry’s attention and said with conviction. “I am.”

Harry chewed his bottom lip, not offering him anymore.

Louis glanced up at the bed frame above him trying to decide if he should say what he wanted to say. He sighed and flicked his eyes back to Harry’s. “My mom visited me recently.” He watched carefully to see any change in his demeanor but when nothing changed he kept going. “She started to talk about when I got out of prison how my life would go.” He paused, trying to identify the feeling that had run through him at the time. “It fucking terrified me when she said that. I don’t think I belong out there anymore.”

Harry leaned in, mouth hovering over his. He nudged their noses together and then without warning he pushed inside. Louis felt the slide of Harry’s tongue burn through him. He opened his mouth wide, desperate for the deep swipe of it, wanting the kiss to consume him. Louis grabbed the back of his head and pressed his mouth as tightly to his own as he could. It turned rough, Harry nipping at his lips before diving back in. Louis willingly spread his legs when Harry moved to settle over the top of him. A deep noise came from Harry’s throat and he lifted his head, eyes almost violent in their intensity. “You’re mine.”

Louis felt the words sink into every part of him, the meaning invading his blood and making his heart beat harder. He knew that his own eyes burned into Harry’s and saying it back felt like something was wrenched from deep inside him. “You’re mine, too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *g* I really hope that ending wasn't too cheesy. I HATE CHEESY. In fact I couldn't even bring my OTP to say "I love you" to each other because it just didn't feel right. I love you is too conventional and they are anything but. <3
> 
> if you have any questions about the characters or just feel like talking about the fic you are welcome to hit me up on my [tumblr](http://words-on-pages.tumblr.com/)!


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